I absolutely take on board Jeff’s (and Nora Roberts’s) view about writers needing to write something every day because even if it’s garbage it can be worked on, and when I’m in a writing phase myself I always make the effort, for the reasons they both give.
But there are times when the mind, the page and the screen remain resolutely blank. Even when I’m not trying to create characters and plots from scratch, but composing a review or a blog post about things which are already in my head. Those times don’t come often, and I fight against them, but they do come.
Today seems to be one of those days. I don’t even have Josh’s excuse of beautiful weather and beautiful things to do in it; the sunshine and blue skies we enjoyed for most of July have gone to brighten someone else’s life today, and although I have plenty to do, none of it is out of the ordinary. And for the moment, though that will no doubt change, I’m all ranted out. Even the technology seems to be behaving (touch wood, pray to all available gods, offer a libation to fickle fate) so I can’t grumble about that.
So I won’t bore you with the ramblings of an empty mind. Instead I’ll just offer up a cheer that Typepad now seems to be speaking to me again, and allowing me to post comments. And I’ll thank everyone who has continued to comment on my posts, and especially everyone who has offered advice on how to deal with the techno-hitch.
A toute à l’heure, my friends.