Not a good day for writing. I thought that giving myself a break from it yesterday would help, but it seems to be worse for some reason.
I wish I knew how to fix it! I have a good story that I seem to be murdering in sludgey writing. I know that I shouldn’t be overly critical in the writing stages, but I can’t help myself: it all seems to be going nowhere. Going nowhere very very slowly – and that’s the most frustrating thing.
But I should be more positive. I’ve fitted in twenty minutes of writing this evening – and that’s better than nothing.
And more bad news. The baby bird is dead – my mother found it floating in my pond this morning. So I rescued it from cold, sun and cats for it to fly straight into some water and drown itself as soon as it had the strength.
I’m trying not to draw any parallels to my writing attempts.