An author of Speculative Fiction, speculates about fiction.

>Writer’s block: Literary Sasquatch

>Does it really exist? Some claim to have seen it, some have even taken photos of it (metaphorically speaking), but does it truly exist anywhere but in our own heads?

I know, I know, I’m getting a bit heavy with the philosophy, but the question needs an answer. Even if there isn’t one.

I’ve struggled to come up with ideas in the past, and lately. But what it always comes down to (for me) is how much I’m juggling. Home life, work, courses and writing all have a burner and some are at the back. Writing, being something I do for fun and that’s about it, is permanently on the rearside of the old brain oven. I used to have loads of time to think and sit and read and generate and muse over things. Now, I just dont.

At first it didnt bother me. Writing Greaveburn was my primary goal and nothing else mattered much. But now it’s done, and the next novel is underway, I’ve realised the short stories are paying the price (poor little blighters). With the start of my Open University course at the end of this month, it’s made me wonder whether I can write short stories any more or if my noggin is hardwired in ‘novel’ mode.

And that led to panic.

And that led to stress.

And that led to a lack of ideas.

And that’s what I’m getting at, people. I dont think Writer’s Block exists. I think it’s just a closed off brain, closed off for whatever reason it may be, but closed tight. And that means that maybe the backburner needs switching off, and writing to come to the fore again. Work is work, and it sorts itself. Home life is going to have its ups and downs, stresses and messes. But writing is the only thing I can really do anything about.

And so I say that time isn’t something you can make. It’s a gift you give yourself.

And I still owe myself from last Christmas!

Thus endeth this Sermon ;oD

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