I like The Rumpus. It’s a great place to discover new writers and learn about the writing process itself. Lately, I have had one of their mug slogans bouncing off of the inner walls of my skull, “Write like a mother fucker”.
I need to write like a mother fucker. I write a lot for work. I write a lot for school. I write… somewhat often, for personal. The balance is off.
A big block is fatigue. I can only spend so many hours a day looking at computer screens and pounding on keyboards. Pen and paper is the obvious alternative, and I do enjoy them. A lot.
The second block, once I open that notebook and uncap the pen, is my mind. It still hasn’t transitioned or recovered or refreshed. I need to get that outside air into my lungs, coursing through my body. I need that change of scenery.
The last block is myself. My confidence. “I’m not a good writer.” “There’s no reason to be doing this, no purpose.” And more crazy notions that I won’t describe here. I get in my own way (on a lot of different fronts).
Still trying to figure out the workaround for that.