I’m in a funk I can’t seem to escape.
This is the dread of writers: the ominous loom of The Block. It haunts our fingertips and drains our laptop batteries. Looking for the right words and puzzling out some semblance of order is a farce, and what does get vomited onto the page reads like the cardboard ingredient list of a box of neglected saltines and tastes just as stale.
Don’t cringe at the word “vomited;” it’s the most accurate descriptor.
And Athena forbid you read what you’ve written out loud.
To quote the cybermen of new: “DELETE. DELETE. DELETE.”