I am distressed.
Like a torn lover, it has failed me. Words cannot spin themselves without thought, and thought cannot be coherent if the thinker is not even concentrating...
Sometimes I've wondered whether I take this writing business so seriously it's like a chore.
It's like, you get inspiration at the wrong time, e.g. before dinner or in the shower or late at night where you cannot peruse the computer; then when you wait it out because
patience is the best course to take, you realise that your initial idea is falling to bits as you type it out.
It's very fustrating. Perhaps what moves one to write are emotions, and not the lack thereof.
I'm loosing touch with description. Perhaps it does not wuite flow with narration.
It's so very fustrating, I cannot even bring myself to finish the inchoate model I have created. It's a half life, a fetus that is aborted. (Disturbing, I know, but then if you are an artist, you will understand).
I just cannot force emotion to come to my words.
