Well, I've been focussing so much on cover art over the past six months or so that it appears I've lost my edge when it comes to writing. I know this is a cyclical thing, and the skills return. But while it's happening, it's pretty scary.
Those of you out there who also write will probably know what I mean.
In those moments when you feel you can't put one word in front of another, it starts to eat into the tough shell you put around yourself. Writers, as with any artists, craftspeople, etc. identify themselves through their work. If what we write seems like crap to us, then does that make us crap, too?
Even worse than that, however, is the constant re-assessment. "I'm a writer...it's all I've ever seen myself being." So if you suddenly find that you can't write, you begin to face a future of not doing what it is you love. And then what?
I don't pretend to know any all-sweeping answers. But at my age I do know enough about myself to know what works for me. Part of it is waiting. Waiting until I get so freaked out that I wonder if I might toss my computer away. And then I mouth off about it (which is what this blog is about, really). My brain is a bit stoopid like that. I think it's foolish male pride as much as anything else, but as soon as I announce to anyone that I have a problem, my brain says "Huh. I'll show you, laddie." And it fixes itself.
I don't expect that necessarily to work for anyone else, but it works for me every time. And after all, this is MY blog!
Thanks for reading!