We have moved to a new home this summer.
I have been influencing this move for years. I couldn’t wait to find my new place to write. I needed this move so bad!
But then, I didn’t think my writing would be so affected. It never had before. I used to be able to write any time, anywhere, and in any circumstances. I was unstoppable. Honest as Jeeves!
Not this time…
I did most of the writing I wanted to do just before leaving so that I would not feel too bad if I got delayed. Emphasis on delay!
My head was so topsy-turvy with all the boxes to pack, the arrangements for traveling, the minimalist list of things to take along that kept changing, I couldn’t go back to the creative place in my head. The right brain took over. It came armed 😊. Evil comes in round shapes.
I still managed to write a guide, a chapter by chapter blueprint on how to write a YA novel. That’s about the only thing that I was able to “create”. I have been dreaming of my own blueprint for years.
Then, we moved, and I have been searching for a place to land and write. I have tried every single room in the house. Still, I cannot find my place to land. I feel stuck. I call it limbo, a place with sand where nothing creative gets done.
So, the question for me is not where, but when will I write the next story?
This is not a writer’s block.
It’s different.
I have been able to sketch ideas for picture books, so this is not it.
I need to start nesting from scratch again. It feels like the nesting phase will never end. I’m going through an empty-nest syndrome where my stories are missing kids.