I'm at a standstill. Not just with writing, but with a number of things. That's not to say that I don't have plenty of ideas--because I do. I just don't seem to have the energy or drive or whatnot to carry them out.
I think everybody has an idea of how their life is supposed to go. I can tell you, I had no plans to still be waiting tables three years after graduating from college. I planned to either be teaching or working in law enforcement or something where I could help and reach people. I planned on living in New Orleans, and having friends over each year for Mardi Gras and in general living a much more sophisticated, urban life.
None of those things have happened.
Most of the time I'm ok with that. I wouldn't have met some of the people I have, or had some of the opportunities I did if those original plans had come to pass. But there are times, like now, when that strange depression that tends to hit artists of of kinds just whammies me, and any kind of production slows to a standstill. It usually hits about once a book, so even though I can see the rest of the book laid out in front of me, I just can't seem to get it on paper.
Soon, something will happen to kick me in the ass. Something always does. But for now, I'll ask for your patience and understanding. After all, good things come to those who wait--in this case, the next Jude Magdalyn novel.