Well, I certainly hope this counts as work because I have been doing a lot of this lately. Sitting, wrapped in a blanket, staring out a window or just staring.
Am I tired. Yes, but I often am due to illness. Do I have writer’s block. Not really. I know what my novel is about. I have it planned and outlined.
Lately though, I feel paralyzed at the thought of writing. Am I just being lazy? Am I scared? I’m really not sure.
I read about the passion writers should have and yet I feel passionless. I read about how writers should write every day, but I don’t. I look at ideas and writing prompts and still, I sit.
The story is there. It’s in my head.
Right now, the blanket and coffee just seem a more do-able option.
All in its time. All in its time,
I keep whispering to myself.