I am stuck and have been stumped for a week or so. I am looking for inspiration, my muse, but have been thus far deceived and have ended up writing, deleting, writing, and deleting. I am going through change – trying to get used to a new city, a new lifestyle, and new responsibilities – and yes, it takes a bit of effort, but when it comes to writing, it feels like someone pulled the rug from beneath my feet. Or rather, my writing has been stolen from me.
A few days ago (Sunday) Gareth asked me what I wanted to do with writing and such, as we were trying to discern the purpose of an imaginary magazine we’d put together (in our heads). I pointed out that originally I’d wanted to write fiction – short stories, and novels – but I chose journalism as a compromise, and it intrigued me too.
After an absence from the fiction realm, and a few weeks of no reflective writing due to preparations (or lack of stimuli?), I have no idea what to do to get my inspiration/muse back. Yes, I have checked under my mattress and behind that heavy piece of furniture (it works in my head), but I haven’t found it. Must’ve left it someplace – or maybe it’s dormant and just needs a kick to get going again.