I’ve been home a lot more recently instead of being at work like I used to be while everyone was in school. Now that it’s summer, work has become slower and my hours have been chopped.
This should sound great for someone like me who needs time to write, read, draw, crochet, and all of that, right?
I can’t do anything.
I stare at a blank page on Google Docs or Scrivener. I look at the incomplete crochet projects. I see the books I’ve checked out from the library. I glance at my unplugged drawing tablet, and glare at the large and mostly empty sketchbook that I spent way too much money on. It’s annoying.
I have all these ideas and plans! I have a few new story plots I want to try. I have the prequel of April Showers (surprise!) in my head with ideas scribbled down somewhere. I have tons of crochet projects I want to do; including blankets, scarves, decorative pillows, and little animals. I want to draw scenes from a story I have in mind.
But I just cannot do it. As soon as I sit down to do whatever activity, nothing happens. If anything, I’ll end up scrolling on twitter and write an essay on EXO before I write one chapter of April Showers.
I don’t know what to do!
Oh well, I guess!
It’s not like these are things I want to do for the rest of my life! Not at all.
What the hell am I going to do when this becomes my actual life?
Now I’m really freaking out. This is what my life will soon become–translating pieces of literature and creating new stories, and I can’t even sit down and write one sentence.
I don’t know what I’m gonna do, and I’m terrified.
Oh well, I guess???
Zanuscript 