The reason I have been gone?
It’s writer’s block. I know what you’re thinking, but this is no laughing matter. As a writer, I sure have experienced this before. This time around, though, it’s really bad and long that it’s shaken me. Yes, I’m starting to panic.
I’ve done everything: cleaning, cooking, baking, gaming, shopping reading, you name it. I want to write but I have no idea what to write. This goes for both stories and poems.
I feel like what’s holding me back is fear. After you have a somewhat successful book, you’re in recess. Now I can’t get out of this comfort. I want to hide and linger and feel safe. My next book might not be a hit and when that happened, I would fall down from a higher place than before. The hit would be more painful.
But I’m so sick of this. I mean writing shit is better than not writing at all. Eventually, I’ll have to face the fact that not all my works will be equally successful.
And that’s okay.