[Note: This post was originally scheduled for the weekend, but I definitely didn't want to interrupt Nathaniel's epic Star Trek museum posts. So, just pretend it's Saturday morning as you read this, OK? OK, good.]
I've had One of Those Weeks.
Actually, since I'm writing this early on Thursday morning, I'm still in the process of having One of Those Weeks.
Hopefully, by the time you read this, I will have stopped having One of Those Weeks, and will instead be at a bookstore. Or a birthday party. Or, even better, reading quietly in a corner somewhere. Because I need some quiet right now.
Like I said, it's been One of Those Weeks.
So much had to be done, so much was done, so much left to do. A couple of good blowouts with people I like, hopefully by now tucked far enough under the rug that everyone involved will forget about them, a sad-but-at-the-same-time-joyous going away dinner for a friend whom I shall miss greatly, and to cap things off, a sale at my LCS that I was not able to attend.
I firmly believe that we are all entitled to complain every now and then, and for this moment at least, I feel like doing just that.
On top of all the work and personal-related nonsense that I had to sift through over the last few days, I feel like my writing
[Edit: My Internet at the office just booted out for the second time this week, so I had to quick save this thing in Blogger, then copy/paste into a Word doc. Somehow, I managed to get it all...I think]
And that's probably the most appropriate thing that could have possibly happened in the middle of that sentence. So appropriate, in fact, that it'll seem made up once you read the rest of this post. Don't worry, though, it wasn't.
Made up, that is.
What I was going to say before we were so rudely interrupted was how, because of all the rude interruptions of the week, my writing has suffered. And, when you write as *ahem* unevenly and scatterbrained as I do, when your writing suffers more than usual...well, it's not a pretty site.
All these interruptions--you know, like work and human contact--have really been cramping my writing style lately. I have a script due on something that's getting to the point where, when I do have a window of an hour or so to sit down with it, I just don't feel like writing.
I'd rather sleep. Or stare at the wall.
Even here on the blog, I've managed only to eek out a Waiting for Wednesday, and I'm so grateful that Nathaniel was able to really take things over for the past several days and put up some great material.
Because goodness knows I've been pretty useless lately.
Work probably won't slow down in the coming week, and the amount of side projects that I've taken on will only pile up if I don't nip them in the bud and get cracking, but being busy (especially in this economy) is certainly better than the alternative.
So, the real purpose of this post is to say that I don't have much to say. I'm mired in a two-week long bout of Writer's Block. It's never happened to me before, either with this blog or with any creative writing that I've done. I am always writing. Even if it's non-nonsensical, and meant only for me.
This week, though.
Wow, it's been a whole lot of staring at blinking cursors and going off to watch the Yankees on TV. I don't know about you, but since my Muse, apparently, went off and got hit by a Mack truck, I haven't been in the mood to read anything.
Words written in logical order, with well-developed characters and tight plots just get me...annoyed, lately. I have a pile of unread books, and comics, and a growing tower of unwatched DVDs just sitting there, looking at me, mockingly.
And there I sit, waiting for the words to come.
So, instead of re-typing the same God awful page for the tenth time, I decided to write about not having anything to write about. And maybe that will get the little hamster on the little wheel in my head to spin again.
Or fall off it completely. Either way, this should be an interesting week. Stay tuned.
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