I must say that my Halloween project kind of wore me out. I’m spent. I don’t feel like writing, the sudden.* This happened last year, too. Something about October fires me up, and then I burn out come November.
I feel bereft of ideas. I have old ideas, but they’re old because they’re not good. Or because I don’t know what to do with them. I have some others, but nothing fully baked. Point is, the last thing I want to do right now is click on blank document and see a bunch of white space that needs filling up. I’ll come around. I always do. But I feel like a brittle, empty husk right now.
When I feel that way, I sometimes retreat to my archives. My archives are housed on old, gunked up computers that I’ve replaced but haven’t had the heart to dispose of. Or on floppy disks requiring…
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