For reasons completely unknown to me, work has been making me do actual work lately. All of this real work filling my day has had negative impacts on my ability to give a shit about doing anything when I get home at night. It’s also has been an effective suppressant to my creativity. So not only can I not come up with an idea for flash fictions, but I don’t even care if I do. I still want to write, hence why I’m here posting this nonsense, but nothing is falling out from my brain and landing on my keyboard.
Woe is me.
I’m also a little frustrated with The Stand (Stephen King). I’m nearing the end, and I’m a little unhappy with the direction he decided to take the book in. Yes, that’s right. This writer who gets five views a day is criticizing Stephen King. Maximum audacity has been achieved. I do need to mention that I like the book and everything I’ve read from him. I think he’s a great writer. I’m just tired, which makes me bitchy, which makes me find flaws in everything else, which makes me ultimately superior to everything else, which makes me feel better, which helps me to fall asleep faster and stop being tired and spurs my creativity and inspires me to write more.
Which makes me far less bitchy. Well, maybe not far less, but you know.