Well, 'the book that never was' seems to be turning into 'the poem that never was', in that the few verses I've written so far are sitting abandoned, unlikely to be joined by others in the foreseeable future. This was, however, not writer's block, but simply the urge to do other things.
As you'll have seen from my last blog, I wrote an entirely new poem, and quite quickly at that - one day, from start to finish, including recording, editing and uploading the audio to YouTube. When I say 'day' I actually mean that I refused to go to bed until it was finished, so it was more of a literal 24 hours, after which I slept for a long, long time, then woke up for a couple of hours and slept again.
Yesterday (which could be counted as today, since I've not actually slept between the end of one day and the beginning of the next) saw the arrival of an idea which could have been a new poem, but which unexpectedly turned into prose. It's so rare that I sit down and write prose that, yes, I sat down and wrote, continuing until I felt I'd done enough. All being well, I'll continue with it tomorrow (actually today - it's almost midday, so if I sleep now I'll wake up later in the evening). Without giving too much away, it's a story you need to read once to find out what happens, then read a second time with 'the spectacles of hindsight' to work out what was really going on.
Tangents are welcome. They at least are signs that I am doing something productive, even if, at the same time, they show that one or more existing projects have been left behind.
