I have accomplished nothing this week. I kept putting off my blog entry for today because I didn't want to admit it. It's horrible to have to put it in writing that you haven't done anything like your job in more than a week.
I think I'm running out of excuse time. I'm not so sick any more except my shoulder muscles will not un-tense and hurts enough that it still bothers me after my strongest pain medicine. Still, it doesn't make me unable to think.
I'm not sure what makes me unable to think. I can't even look at my work. Every time I open up the computer I'll find myself playing on ebay, checking email, reading rss feeds. Every time I think I should start writing I start reading instead. 20 Master Plots (and How to Build Them) right now. And that alone is unusual for me. Usually if I have a hard time writing I go into binge reading -- fantasy, urban, romance, thrillers. Anything. Anything but nonfiction.
Now I'm not writing and I'm reading nonfiction.
No excuses. No good reasons. Only oddness and perhaps a bit of lazy.
Next week I think I'll try for a smaller goal because I've fallen so far behind and it's starting to look like.... Oh, I don't know.... Maybe like cleaning up the playroom after we've had a few other families with children over.
Something too big to be accomplished.
So I'll try to finish one short story. Whether it's one I've already started or if it's something newly inspired. One week, one short story -- and only the original writing of it, not the editing and perfecting of it.
I'm going to start slowly and get back to work.