I saw this image after I wrote a poem about Writers Block. It’s not so much as I am blocked with a novel. No. It’s something else. Too much real life keeping me from my book life.
I need to make the minutes count. It’s gnawing at me. So much to do and yet I am paralysed. I feel like punching myself in the face and getting all G.I Jane on my own ass. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will start.
Wish me luck.