I have been having a hard time settling back into writing. I did a lot of procrastiwork, as in, I found every piece of writing I could and added it into one of my Scrivener files. Scrivener, in case you don’t know, has a way of gathering files together…so you can have a file with a document for each chapter. But the documents are already open, so it’s not like, having a file folder on your computer with a word file for each chapter. OK, my writer’s block means I am having a hard time explaining, so let me give you a screencap, and incidentally a useless peek at what I am working on. In the Hall of the Obsidian Queen is the sequel to The Key to All Things. Salinara is a story I’ve referred to in blog interviews, about the Fairy Godmother. The Dormovoi brings together my love of Russian folk tales with my fascination of abandoned houses.

I have one of these for poems, one for a main several book project, and one for even more stories that I have started snips or chapters of. And one for another book I have 9 chapters written on….

I love Scrivener, and I think this was the right call, but now I feel — ironically — scattered instead of brought together. Usually, this works fine (I’ve used this particular file for years…super helpful if you write at work and at home) and I just sit there, nibble on a story, and then — bam. The thread picks up and I am off. If I am really doing good — if it looks like I will finish it this go around, I pull it into its own file. If not, I leave it sit, and move onto something else. But because I explored so many older projects (“What do you mean, I wrote 60,000 words on this? Its practically DONE! ” Or, “I haven’t written a short story in eons. I really ought to finish a couple”) I have overloaded my circuits with ideas. Usually, I like to just have one story uploaded at a time (I can’t really run more than that, bad operating system with low ram and crappy memory banks, I suspect) and then I work until I run into a wall, and either let it sit, or start from the beginning to see where I went off the rails. Now I’m just like, listless. There is too much. I tried to write on The Dormovoi yesterday, felt like I’d written the people into a corner, and instead of trying to fix it, I was like…eeeeeyah. Nope. Screw that, instead of going into problem-solving mode. (I went and played solitaire instead, and tried to just let my brain drift.)

So I am just letting things settle in my head, all the churned up waters and the treasures they have brought up. running my fingers through the muddied waters in the hopes that I catch something worthwhile. I hate it because I was all excited about writing, but with the stress of all the stuff I’ve been doing, and the, you know, the general fug of horror of 2020 that seems to taint all the things is making it harder. Like pushing a bolder around with my mind.

I just need to rest. The muse in the back of my head hasn’t failed me yet, after all. I just need to give her time. And be kind to myself, which is something I’m always telling you all to do…so…I shall endeavor not to be a hypocrite.