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I've been trying to write and nothing I write really seems worthwhile. I'll get about two or three pages in, realize I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this story and, really, it's a bit dull anyway, then delete it and stare at my laptop screen for what seems like forever.
I hate feeling like this.
I hate not being able to finish anything
It drives me up the freakin' wall.
So, I try switching gears and working on something else. Maybe read or go for a walk or watch some television.
But when I go back to the laptop, nothing comes. The white screen accuses me with its emptiness and I start filling it up with lists of people, places, things, whatever to try and spark something. Anything.
But nothing ever seems to come.
And I'm left with a screen full of useless crap and a feeling of frustration.
It's gotten to the point that I think I should be squatting, naked, on the floor while whipping my back with a rusty wire just out of a weird sense of penance.
I hate feeling like this.
I hate not being able to finish anything
It drives me up the freakin' wall.
So, I try switching gears and working on something else. Maybe read or go for a walk or watch some television.
But when I go back to the laptop, nothing comes. The white screen accuses me with its emptiness and I start filling it up with lists of people, places, things, whatever to try and spark something. Anything.
But nothing ever seems to come.
And I'm left with a screen full of useless crap and a feeling of frustration.
It's gotten to the point that I think I should be squatting, naked, on the floor while whipping my back with a rusty wire just out of a weird sense of penance.
