I did it. I hit a block on my Work-In-Progress. While not uncommon, I wasn't expecting the two months it's now been without writing my WIP. "You were going to plough through this whole first draft!" I hear my brain tell me. "You had it all planned out!" it cries.
Well I can plan all I like, but it doesn't stop me from taking a step back when it just doesn't feel right. The characters feel increasingly two-dimensional, I think there's more bad writing than good, and the storylines feel somewhat forced together.
So me and the WIP are having a little break.
It's been eighteen months since I graduated from my BA, and seven months (six months?) since I started this thing called A Job. Having spent a year training prior to starting in September, I knew keeping up my writing whilst doing the job that I do would be very hard, but it's taken the last few months to really hammer home just how little space I have in my life to write. Even if I can carve out the time, I'm so physically and mentally exhausted by the time I make it through the door, with another few hours work waiting for me before the next day, that I can't bring myself to do anything other than run for my duvet and crash into a fevered sleep. Welcome to the life of a so-called Grown Up.