It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces. - Bridget Jones.
Ok, that's entirely too dramatic for my sitch. In that instance, Bridge begins a stunning affair of the loins with Daniel Cleaver, while simultaneously, her mother leaves her father for an orange television presenter named Julian. I'm not going through anything like that, THANK YOU LORD.
But I'm having an interesting moment. While my newest fiction work is going swimmingly, rolling off my fingers in little gleeful bursts, I've been struggling through a story at work. It's weird. It's not writer's block, per se, because the reporting is there. It's just sort of a frozen and consuming concern of how to frame things and handle a great ton of information. It makes me want to run screaming into the night. I made good progress this week, mostly because I spent time studying stories by people who are awesome, just to jostle the old wrinkled prune inside my skull. I'm feeling optimistic. I've been able to keep up a good balance of journalism and fiction for almost two years now, and I have no current plans to change that. So any excuse of over-extending my mojo needs to GTFO. I just need to get past it and stop going, "DURRRRRR, um... coffee!"
In keeping with the British theme of this post, here's a cheeky little song I found about the universal problem of HEAD VACANCY. It's called Writer's Block by a chap named Just Jack. Enjoy, brethren.