In yet another writers' block-induced stupor :(
Every time I'm reminded of how dry the well of possible novel inspiration has run it depresses me like nothing else. I know how totally emo this blog is going to end up sounding. Well, it's not like that at all. It's that now I've given up on that one thing I've been writing I seem to have completely forgotten how to have a new idea, or at least how to stick to it. I've started three different things since then; one was autobiographical and the other two were from old plans that I hadn't looked at since I wrote them. Years ago. One was a fantasy epic, but now I try to write that like most authors would write fantasy epics and I cringe endlessly at myself. I love reading fantasy novels - in recent months I've discovered the genius that is Neil Gaiman, and a good one I read years ago was Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke, which I loved. It's like they touch a part of my conscious that nothing else really touches. Okay, that's pathetic, but it's true.
All I can do right now is keep writing anything I do have and hope something comes of it >_>
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