SLOUGH OF DESPOND
or why can't I be arsed?
Maybe it's because of the never-ending pandemic. Maybe it's because of the fallout from the stupid Brexit. Maybe it's because of the crap, unsettled weather. Maybe the planets are misaligned. Maybe it's all or none of these. Whatever it is, I just can't raise enthusiasm for tasks that I normally find challenging and usually enjoy.
Generally, Aggie and I go for a trot to the beach and I find a suitable location and take a photo of her posing somewhere interesting, then post it on social media later. But even those photo shoots are now few and far between. I still try to walk a couple of miles a day and odd things still lift my spirits. Yesterday, it was the sight of a schooner in full sail in the bay which got me excited, but it hasn't lasted. Even railway modelling, where I can usually lose myself and lose track of time, holds no attraction.
I'm not suffering from writers block, either. In fact I've put down over a thousand words of the new book - number six in the Inspector Sonny Russell series - and I know where the plot is going - vaguely, so it's not that. Also, I've got a new laptop so writing is physically much easier. But, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to actually get down to it.
I've been trying to get the latest book, Blood in the Garden, formatted for kindle. Even that is proving to be a trial and I'm wondering if it's worth it.
Could it be my age? I know we're supposed to slow down as we get older but it ain't no fun. I guess I'll just have to weather it and hope my normal enthusiasm returns soon. Otherwise...
