Scribbler fatigue

I'm tired of writing. Jaded, even. How to move forward to a new and reenergised state? I'm writing the Mum book again and I have the opening scene. I also have lots and lots of fragments, from my last rough draft, as well as from previous attempts at mapping my life with her. But it's bloody hard. It's a slog, writing, in a way that it just wasn't when I began to write more seriously, over ten years ago. Perhaps it is meant to be this much of a slog. I think one has to feel compelled to it, for sure. Every phrase I pen, every sentence, is filtered through a cliche, alliteration and everything else meter. The thing with alliteration is that I like it. I'm digressing.

The usual round up of recommended books are doing the rounds. My favourite book of the year would be King Crow, I think. If that was this year. You see, my finger is nowhere near the pulse. I shall shuffle away, in the hope I have something more interesting to say on books and writing before the year is out.

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