This is a Journal entry by The End Of The World

Non-Writers Block

Post 1

The End Of The World

I can't write. Well, thats not entirely true obviously, I can write this...my thoughts my feelings but anything more than that (is there anything more than that? discuss) i find impossible. I want to be able to write fiction, want to be able to construct worlds and things more interesting than this tawdry existence we share. But I can't. I have no inspiration, no ideas and no talent. I look at the stuff I like...Murakami, Eddings, Marquez, Mitchell...and its just impossible. I feel like a dry well....drop the bucket and theres nothing there, except maybe the odd grains of sand.

Maybe I should try to cook instead?

(and before its mentioned, yes, i have self pity pretty much mastered). Although if my mood swings nicely maybe you'll see another side of me. If there still is one.


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