Tuesday is my normal day off, I took this morning off as well. I was hoping to get some writing done, but I am so fried that I can't create anything.
This isn't writer's block, or as I like to joke writer's laziness. I know what I want to write, I know what I want to say. I just can't get it out. I can't string the words together with any coherence.
I think the stress of the last couple of years has destroyed more than my health, it has robbed me of the one and only gift I have (had).
I may not be a successful author, but deep down, in my very core, writing is all that I am. It has been the one constant, in both the good and bad times, and now, it is gone.