Writer's block is so much fun. Not only does it affect my ability to actually write anything fiction-wise, but I'd thought out what I was going to write here but on the sight of the text block my brain went blank, replacing all my thoughts with the words to Fall Out Boy's Irresistible.
It was, possibly, about writer's block — writer's anxiety, more like — that I'd been intending on writing about anyway. It's a vicious circle: the more you stare blankly at the blank page, the blanker your mind becomes and the more nervous you get. I am back, again, to the point where faced with a blank document my hands start to shake, which is always so much fun.
Oh, there go the lyrics to I Don't Know How But They Found Us' Choke, which is, incidentally, a fantastic song. The whole EP it's on is great, and would be inspiring if I could actually, you know, string a sentence together.
That said, I did actually write something recently. Although, by recently, I do mean in March of 2018 which, for me, is recent because I've still got Alex and Milos's first arc unfinished from around nine years ago. I will finish it eventually. I'd meant to publish it — insert hollow laughter here — but I'm pretty sure there's zero market for those two, no matter how much I love them. The relationship is far too fucked up, and with far too much baggage on both sides.
Although, in my head right now, Alex keeps getting distracted by how red Milos's tongue looks against his lavender-grey skin and all the uses it can be put to, so at least they remain interesting after all this time, even if it is just for me. I wouldn't mind, but that particularly intrusive Alex-ism came while I was trying to figure something out about a totally different story I was failing to write.
Ultimately, I find I do better with prompts and, sometimes, with rigid frameworks. In said March of 2018, I saw by chance a last call for a competition that asked for a 500-word story based on the image of a streetlight. I completed it, even with edits (more hollow laughter), with time and a couple of words to spare, but couldn't bring myself to submit it.
Since I know no one reads this, I figure I might as well post it here. Surprisingly, I did enjoy writing it, and I enjoyed the challenge of it too, despite it being very out my comfort zone in so, so many ways. It's also cliché and derivative, which is one of the reasons I didn't submit, but eh. It's not like I'm doing anything with it here, right?
Asexual, aromantic, and transmasc non-binary. No, I have no idea how I ended up writing romance either.