It is the days like this one that make me question my commitment to being an author (and my sanity, usually).
For two days I have sat here and stared at the Blinking Cursor of Doom (tm) with nothing to show for it. I have posited that I am simply attempting to write a piece that is stubbornly refusing to materialize. So, I whip out my trusty-but-tattered outline, and I peruse the other gaping holes I still have to fill in. And I stare. And I ponder. And nothing comes.
Deep down inside, I just want this over with. I want to be able to print it out in its entirety and read it from beginning to end in one sitting. I want to do the polishing revisions I desperately know it needs (but have been reluctant to start until it's finished) I want to start the querying. I'm dying for my first rejection letter. (because it will mean that I AM doing what I always wanted to, I AM writing) I want to start on the second book in the series, and see what new story will unfold before my eyes. (Trust me, by the end of my tales, I am usually as surprised as the reader)
It is a vicious cycle. Lack of creativity breeds frustration breeds lack of creativity. I just need to find something to push me up and over this little bump so I can move on. I wish I had something else to read for a while.