Writing. That most tempestuous and tormentous creative outlet, vice and virtue all rolled into one. Equally passionate on the lows as on the highs. I am forced confess that my own writing has been suffering severely as of late. The raw creativity is there, but it adamantly refuses to be poured onto the page. Progress is being made in the form of chapter outlines, character backgrounds, world building, and more, but that is not quite the kind of progress I crave. What I want is simply to sit down and just write, to see the story take shape, to see it come to life. That is such a satisfying feeling. But that aside, with this glaring lack of actual writing being done, one could easily say my plans have been a failure, and that would be the honest thing to do. Self reflection is most certainly a good thing, and in keeping with the theme of honesty, I would say the lack of writing stems from a mix of anxious apprehension and simple laziness. In short: writer’s block.
However, with that being said, I do have a new plan for the weekend. Or as we say in Sweden: skam den som ger sig (shame on him who gives up).