NaNoWriMo starts again in just about 24 hours and I have no idea if I'm going to do it. I have a very good idea for a story, but I have the worst writers block right now. By this I don't mean that I'm not writing; I'm actually writing quite a bit more than I had been before I went rogue. It just feels like everything I write falls flat compared to my expectations for it, and this makes writing less fun than it used to be. Perhaps this is an uncomfortable growth spurt as my style becomes more badass? I certainly hope so. But I think it might be a pretty bad sign when I put a self-reflective piece about writing on my freaking sex blog. Isn't this supposed to be about sex?
This is sort of about sex, because my biggest fear is that I spend the entire bulk of my creative energy on all the sex I have. Which is such a terrible problem to have, I know.
I don't know how to have less sex, it's like all my ideas involve just having more and more and more sex. But when I look back on my writing career, some of my best work was done during sexual dry spells. This blog being the exception, if I may be so bold as to call this a good body of work. Some of it is good.
Part of me wishes I could just take a month off and see where my novel goes. Let me tell you though, I would really, really miss fucking.