I spent the entire week trying to convince myself that writer's block doesn't exist. It's not working. And for those of you who don't write, it feels like this.
But more painful and in your head. You know something is wrong, but you aren't sure how it happened, and you're kind of left hanging. It stinks.
A large portion of my days have been filled with me muttering, "What do I do now?" and, "Stab me in the eye?" over and over again. I even growled like a feral animal when my computer wouldn't type by itself.
My children and hubby have melted into the basement, abandoning me to my fate. Or maybe it is just self-preservation, either way I feel like this.
But without the severed hand. Although I did mention that writer's block is painful.
For my sake, and my family's, I hope this doesn't go on much longer. Growling is hard on your throat.