I can’t write. I can’t sit down and let the words flow. It’s getting harder and harder to put the thoughts into words. Even with the blog posts, I’m not writing it the way I used it. There’s no snark, sarcasm or even bitchiness. It’s just so, blah.

I can barely string two sentences together without feeling distracted and the need to want to do something else. Gone are the days when I used to be able to write down at least a few hundred words in fifteen minutes. Now, it takes me that long to even write twenty words.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I would love to say that the environment I’m in right now is not conducive to the writing muse but that would be a lie. No matter where I am, I can’t seem to write. My plot bunnies are all over the place and only half-formed at that.

How do people do this? How do the other writers maintain the writing fever? I seem to have lost mine, sometime after March. I did manage to write something in July but that’s just a self-indulgent Mary-Sue drivel.

I miss writing fantasy, romance, even horror. I miss the writing high, the need to write, the need to get the words and the stories out. I’ve stopped carrying a writing notebook along with me because it just got too heavy to lug around and I don’t even use it as much. Now, I only have a tiny one where I put in plot ideas but even then, the plots suck.

I don’t even read as much any more and that’s sad. I’d read a few chapters of a book and then move on to another and another and another. I can’t seem to read a book to completion in a week or two, like I used to. It’s like the part of me that loves the reading, the writing and everything literary related, either upped and left or just curled up and died without me knowing. It’s strange, not being able to do all these things, as if it’s all bottled up or blocked up somewhere.

I need help but I don’t know what exactly it is that I need help with.