Despite the fact that we’re away this weekend, I did a huge grocery order this morning. We do need to eat before we leave, and there’s nothing worse than coming home to an empty fridge and pantry. A hundred dollars goes way, way too depressingly fast in the supermarket. And the cheque for the urgent work I did in July did not arrive today, which is disappointing because HRH gets paid after we come back. The credit line is my fridge’s friend.
However, the price of gas here just dipped under a dollar per litre, so that’s good news.
I’ve been beating my head against this story I’m working on, and against pretty much everything in progress. None of my writing interests me and hasn’t for a while now, which is bad. And the last thing I need to do is start something new, which just perpetuates and/or exacerbates the problem. Not that there’s anything new knocking at my brain. I feel so disconnected from the creative process these days. All the tricks I recommend to people because they generally work — free writing, working on character sketches in various ways and so forth — do nothing for me and never have, mostly because I can’t shake the feeling that they’re a waste of the time and energy I could be using to do Real Work. Not that any Real Work is being done these days, or that this stupid perception is true, but that doesn’t change my inability to work with those kind of exercises. I just can’t get excited about my work.
It’s a slump. It will pass, eventually. When? I have no idea. In the meantime I’ll keep trying.