I can't believe it's been almost two weeks since my last post. I've been busy with everything but writing. When I finally went back to Assignment #2, guess what? Nothing had happened! An elf had not come in the night and advanced my plot. (He hadn't made me any shoes either!)
Nope, I've hit a brick wall. My face, at first just ghostly, turned the writer shade of pale. I'm trying not to over-react. Writing's funny in that way. It's easy to psych yourself out, to try so hard that you create what you fear: writer's block. So, I'm just taking deep breaths and acting nonchalant whenever I get around paper or a keyboard. (Whistling past the graveyard.)
It's funny how writing requires that you monitor your thoughts and fears. I think inside the head of every writer there must be a saboteur who would just love to fling shoes in the loom--or the metaphorical equivalent. Why is that, I wonder?
I'll get back to work on Assignment #2 tomorrow.