I had no drive whatsoever to write last night. None. But that didn't stop me from picking up a pen and paper and grinding away a few more pages of a short story that just would not come.
I think I learned something doing that. Despite the fact that I had no desire to write, I was able to find something worth putting to paper. Granted, not worth MUCH, but it was something.
I ended up thinking of something I read in my English 101 class. It's a paper called "Shitty First Drafts". Google it if you're interested, it's easy to find.
For those of you who are less interested, I'll continue on like normal. Sometimes the thing to do is to sit down, pen in hand, notebook staring back at you defiantly, and write. It doesn't matter WHAT comes out of your fool head, as long as words end up on the paper.
When I wrote last night, I felt less like a writer and more like an enraged mongoose, slashing away at the paper who entered my den. I came up with some really great lines, some really terrible lines, and about two pages of scratched out gibberish.
What's left is a tangle of words that only I really understand. And that leaves room for editing and revising.
That's all for today kiddies. I'll be back later on as I need to blow off steam from the writing process.