Last week was such a frustrating time for me, as the end of my rope seemed to be getting ever closer.
The backache didn’t want to leave me, fluctuating between good and bad days that I swear would try the patience of a saint. This is something I have never professed to be, so maybe I had it coming. I was to blame for it in the first place, lifting all those couches, so I must take the punishment without moaning.
Despite the pain and frustration, I approached the WIP, only to find an alien pile of scribblings that looked only vaguely familiar. I read the last chapter but nothing occurred to me, no clear direction, nothing. I went back even further, with the same results. My heart sank to the floor as it was beginning to look as though I would have to start again.
At this point, my brain nearly went crazy. I wanted to cry, scream, or leave the building and couldn’t make up my mind which. Fortunately, I have a running storyboard of sorts, with a tenuous thread running to the end, something I have not done before, so I studied it, desperately seeking inspiration.
But my brain wouldn’t budge.
By now, I was beginning to feel as though I had lost whatever writing ability I thought I had, along with my muse. Not that she has ever been a great help to me, more the opposite really. She can argue the hind legs off a donkey and can always find at least three reasons why something won’t work, so I’m not missing her half as much as the contents of my brain.
Right in the middle of all this frustration, the PC started crashing and buffering, something it has been doing a lot of lately. I normally wait patiently until it gets its act together, but after two horrendous days of not being able to get even the simplest of tasks done, I made a decision.
Firefox would have to go. It had crashed on me for the last time.
I downloaded Chrome with my fingers crossed, but so far, it has been fine. Now all I have to do is find out where my writing mind has buggered off to!