I’m in a writing rut. I don’t think I can call it writer’s block because I’ve got ideas and I know what I need to do, I just don’t feel like doing it. Kinda like the laundry and the dishes. And I don’t want writing to be chore that I detest. It has always been my sanctuary, even if it hurt emotionally while I was doing it.
Maybe it’s cabin fever or maybe it’s the anniversary of a loved one’s untimely death that’s got me down. I don’t know.
I don’t want to read, I don’t want to write, I don’t want to do school with Zane. I don’t want to clean or cook, I don’t want to go anywhere, I don’t want to watch TV or go to the movies, I abhor the phone lately.
Now sleep–sleep sounds good. But then I have the nightmares, so I can’t do that either.