This post is hard for me to write.
Lately, it's been hard to write. Period.
No inspiration, no muses, no beautiful words filling my head, my heart, my pen.
I can't even read. I've begun seven different novels, but I've put them all down, unable to slip into their pages. Even the final book of a trilogy I had been dying to read...sits dusty and sad on my bookshelf..for the past three months. I can focus on Archie Comics.
I try to read the posts on this wonderful blog - these beautifully written, encouraging, honest, exciting blogs that my 'friends whom I've never met', share with all of us. But partway through my brain fogs and I'm looking out the window or staring at the spackle on the ceiling.
My focus is gone.
I thought perhaps that two weeks vacation would help. And it was wonderful. We saw many beautiful things in New York and I visited the Waldorf to sneak around and write out more ideas for my next novel.
But now that we're home...
I'm exactly like this gray, foggy day outside, that is void of fresh air.
I'm not sad or depressed, I don't think.
I'm in a state of 'Can't'.
Oh, I've tried writing. But the 'voice' is missing. I'm bland and I'm having a hard time coming up with the right words. I can't write.
I've been praying. For protection, for guidance, for rest, for a path to follow. But my heart and head are mushy and I'm just...leaking out weird emotions to God, asking Him to figure it out. I can't.
I can't even cook dinner. I peek through my recipe cards and I can't remember what I used to feed the family. We've been eating sandwiches quite a bit. I can't cook.
I'm on auto-pilot with housework, playing with the boy, talking to hubby about our future.
I know it'll pass. And I'm not seeking sympathy. I'm not self-pitying because frankly, being in this state is annoying. And exhausting.
So I guess what I'm writing today, is that you're allowed to just 'can't'. I know that at some point, God will poke sunny rays through the sky and you'll feel it on your insides. I know that this is a just a phase and that maybe it's not time to write. And that's ok.
And I apologize to my fellow writer friends. I have been reading your posts, and I'm sorry I haven't been commenting. It's not nice of me and I'm sorry. I do appreciate your writing, and I think you are all lovely.