Sometimes when I haven’t written for a long time I get scared that I’ll forget how to write. Up until now it hasn’t been the case. My little absence, once over, had tended to make me a better writer, if anything. But this break feels different.
Even when I don’t write, I still usually think about my stories. I imagine what the characters are going to do next, I picture myself writing the story in the future, sometimes I even get new ideas that I try to remember for later (but never do).
This time I seem to have relished the break so much that I have completely cut myself off from my stories. There was only one time in all of January when I found myself thinking about a story; that was in the middle of the night when the temperature didn’t dip below 25’C and there was something outside the window making noises that sounded like they might have been coming from an alien. My mind wandered a lot that night.
Even now, as I sit at the computer with hours of free time stretching out before me for the first time in weeks, my brain is blank. I don’t even know which story I want to work on, let alone what I want to happen next.
This time I really am worried that I have taken too much of a break. This time I feel it is possible that I can’t go back. Even worse, it is not so much that I have forgotten how to write, but for the first time in longer than I can remember, I just don’t want to.