I TOUT MYSELF as a creator of fiction. I sometimes lie to myself that I am a writer instead of my actual job. Not that my personality and identity is rooted in what makes me money.
I realise that my short stories and creative pieces in general have been diminishing. This is like a politician telling the truth – unintentional. For some reason or another, be it the seasons changing or my current lifestyle, my special part of the brain which produces many good ideas and the other part of the brain which produces motivation have ironically collaborated to put a squeeze on my output. I am of course blaming something else for my inadequacies.
As if the supply chain is regulated by Russia, and I live in Ukraine, I ran out of gas at some point and ignored the fact I was getting cold. Despite my blackberry harbouring many good ideas, lines, characters, plots, jokes and all the rest, externalising my stories has been arduous and very difficult.
I’m not going to bleat on about ‘writer’s block’, because my experience isn’t really that, I simply don’t seem to have the mental energy to extrapolate and successfully mine my conscious. This shall change – for I am off on holiday for two weeks. Stay tuned…actually that doesn’t really work for the internet, how about, stay online? Hmmmm…