A week and a half ago I volunteered to bring in a story to class on March 23rd because I had a totally kick ass idea that had begun very well, and I thought that with three weeks to write it I'd be golden.
I was wrong.
It seems as though my brain has decided I don't really want to be a writer. On this, the most perfect writing day EVER (house is clean, roads are crappy, free day off of work, I'm fed, well rested), I CAN'T WRITE. NOT ONE WORD. I've sat at the computer with the tv off being alone with my thoughts and my characters for two and a half hours and I have a lot of words written, but not a single image I like. I'm an image person.
I know this will pass. I know the idea isn't really crappy and that even if it is, it's my job as the ever so talented writer that I am to make it not crappy.
But, this is why I'm glad that I have ten days before class because if I was going through this at this time next week I'd be in a serious panic. Now, I'm having my primal scream and once it's out I should be able to write.