Giving In

            I’m giving up, until further notice, to write fiction. If and when God wants me to do it again, He will give me a story. I don’t want to strain for ideas any more. As Julia Cameron says (I’ve begun rereading her brilliant The Right To Write), writing shouldn’t feel like you’re making something up but taking something down. I’ve had enough of my picture not appearing, of writing “A romcom” in the middle of the page and then going through the motions day after day.

            I’m blocked, and I’m not going to deny it any more. I am Scribe, and I am a blocked creative. I’ve tried reading. I’ve tried not reading. I went to the cinema to see Hereditary (a seriously good horror film). Nothing.

            I’ve tried exercising. Early each morning, I put on my jogging gear, leave the house, then simply walk a circuit for an hour. Not even power walking, but going at my regular pace, allowing my mind to go blank. My muse isn’t having any of it.

            I can’t think of the last time I actually started, let alone finished anything.