I don't know how long it's been since I've felt good about writing, except to say too long. For the longest time, writing was a driving force, a catalyst, in my life. Now it's something I might touch base with for a few minutes here and there, but mostly, it eludes me.
It's my fault. I know it's my fault, but I don't know how to stop it. Or reverse it. Fix it. It's this runaway train that I've tied myself to and it's not even rolling in the right direction anymore. It lost the tracks somewhere near the top of the hill and it's turning into a landslide.
This all sounds cynical and overdramatic, I'm sure, but there's a lot of discomfort in losing something like this. It's like losing an important person, but the important person is you, in a way. It's not all of you, there's still plenty of you there and worth keeping around, but you're missing some.
I stopped blogging because I thought it was getting in the way of writing scripts. Now it seems I've all but stopped writing scripts too. I have some open on my computer constantly, but forward progress is all stutters and false starts. Or stalled out on the side of the highway waiting for someone to pick me up.
I need to get creating again. I want to make comics. I want to write as hungrily as I used to.
I just don't know how to do it again.