Writing my brains out

Delacroix - La Mort de Sardanapale (1827)
Delacroix – La Mort de Sardanapale (1827)

Yes that’s it. I resist the inevitable. My brain will run dry on me. No more words, only repetition of the same old, same old. I have been writing for July camp NaNoWriMo and aside from many distractions every minute of the day, I pulled out a close to 26K word count.

It’s not that the story is boring. I just feel I have no more juice. I just sit there and play and doubt. Maybe that’s it. I doubt the story. I doubt the characters. I doubt everything. I am in vacation and I just want to sleep and look far away. Maybe that’s it. I need to refuel.

So today I did something new. I changed coffee shop. I went to a new place. It’s ok. It’s small and quiet. Music is ok. The barista is friendly and I can sit there with the same iced tea for hours. The only thing… I have this wall in front of me. I need a place with a window so I can look at people walking in the street.

I always thought that the place where I was working was important. I can write with noise around. If I don’t want the noise, I just listen to my own music. But now I realise that I need to see people or art in front of me. From my place I can only see a perspective of the street. People walking by and I can see them only for a few seconds. I can’t follow them, only with my mind.

So I will change. Again. I am going somewhere else to refresh my brain and really empty it by the end of the day. It’s like an urge…

With great respect!

A.

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