Stalemate.

I'm supposed to be novel-ing right now, it's NaNo season once again, but I can't get out of my own damn head long enough to put something on paper. Everything I write down is too close to home. My narrator is too much like me, or is exactly me, or will have done the things that I have done, that I've been doing. Have I finally hit the point in life where I've become my own protagonist? Become my own force of nature?

I don't know. I don't know what to write this year. I've been spending my days penning news pieces and articles and poems and fan fictions, and I don't know that I have any words left in my head to talk about things I can't see in front of my face any longer. And it's actually very frustrating.

Anyway, sorry (Jill) for not posting for her for forever, but everything you need to know, I'll pass on by word of mouth, or else, by writing it in your Moleskine journal. SIGH.