It's the weirdest thing.
Every time I finish a novel, I go through a period -- usually a couple of months -- where I completely forget HOW to write. I remember that I'm supposed to put words down on the paper, but I forget how to make them "sing," you know? I usually try to eke out a short story or something (see previous entry about erotica, which I finished, btw,) and end up feeling like writing sucks and I wonder how the hell I'm ever supposed to be able to do this again.
I imagine what it's really about is my brain begging for a break. Science fiction writer Alan Steele talked about it once as needing time for input, (as opposed to output.) So, I took Mr. Steele's advice and read a lot of stuff... and walked around in the snow with my son.
It seems to have paid off, last night, for the first time in what seems like forever, the floodgates opened and words poured out. I actually had to tell myself it was time to quit, since it was getting late and my son wakes the household up at 5:00 am every morning.
I like writing again.
Hooray.
