On occasion, my creativity gets… stuck.  It gets to the point where I don’t want to do anything.  It’s not lethargy; the mind is a buzz with ideas.  It’s not apathy; I damn well want to write.  My will to write is inert, and it’s quite frankly pissing my Muse off to no end.

So instead of writing, what am I doing?  I got four Playstation 2 games and half of them still need beating.  Brother Todd picked up a Playstation 3 and there are two games for that which need besting.  One of them (Fallout 3) is a real pip.  Then there are the movies I’d like to watch, the books that need reading, etc., etc., etc.  And all the while a little part of my brain screams that I need to be writing, that time is awasting.  What the hell is wrong with me?

What the hell is wrong with me.

This is normal.  This is “writer’s block.”  At least I’m not Ted Sturgeon.  Guy had a block that lasted years.  Then again, here’s a guy who’s writing inspired Ray Bradbury and Harlan Ellison.  What have I written?

Mostly notes.

Unfinished notes.

And this blog.  Which isn’t that bad, but still.

So, I don’t wanna write.  Which means CulNoWriMo gets put off at least until February  (a novel in 29 days?).  Which means this blog gets a little fallow (no shock there.)

Which means my Muse stalks around the house with a knife in Her hand, muttering nasty things about me under Her breath.

Maybe if I wrote some notes She’d calm down…


4 Replies to “Inertia”

  1. Not to pick at a nit, but I think Bradbury preceded Sturgeon by a few years. That’s just a wild guess, though, based on when their respective popularities came to the fore.

  2. You may pick as many nits as you like, but this time it isn’t my faulty brain that may be at… err… fault. I got the notion from the obviously infallible Wikipedia entry, which states the following:

    [Sturgeon] was listed as a primary influence of the much more famous Ray Bradbury.

    The two men were contemporaries and may well have read each other. Sturgeon’s first work was (and this is based on quick research and might be wrong) 1938, when Bradbury was 18. Bradbury himself didn’t start getting published until 1943. An influence could very well be there. In fact, it could be there even if Bradbury was 80 at the time…

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