You know why I can’t write fiction anymore?

It’s writer’s block.

Only it’s not your average Fuck-I-Really-Wish-I-Could-Think-Of-A-Topic-For-This-Essay type writer block. It’s more like Holy-Shit-I-Haven’t-Been-Able-To-Create-Fuck-All-With-My-Mind-In-Over-A-Year. In other words, this shit is severe.

I think I know why it’s happening, too.

See, I started writing the novel to try and improve my life. I’ve stated a lot of different reasons for writing it (meeting new people, being remembered in my school, etc) but the bottom line is that I was trying to improve my life. That was my main motivation.

But that motivation doesn’t exist anymore, because I’ve reached a point in my life where I’m content with what I have. Since I started writing the novel, I’ve met new people, and made new friends, and had a lot of fun. I’m content with who I am right now.

And so, my motivation is dead, and will continue to be dead until such a point when:

a) Life becomes crappy again.
b) I find another source of motivation.

Without motivation, I haven’t had the drive to get this thing published. I still have a 200-page stack on my desk, and I’ve done nothing with it for a few months now.

And honestly, that hasn’t bothered me until now. Before about a week ago, I had no available contacts in publishing. But then Brian asked me about my novel, and then his mom asked me about it, and then she spoke with Graham’s mom, who spoke to me and gave me a contact.

Now there’s a 10-digit phone number on my desk. If I dial that number, an editor might pick up the phone, and who knows where things might go from there? Maybe nowhere. Maybe somewhere.

This is the closest I’ve been to getting something published. And you know what? I still have no motivation. And suddenly I feel guilty about it.

I mean, there are other people who are more excited about getting this novel published than I am. Am I dumb? Why am I not motivated? I should be leaping out of my seat right now and dialing that number, but I haven’t yet.

You know what? A lot of people want me to do this. I won’t make a list, but I can rattle off a dozen names just off the top of my head, and the more I think about it, the more people I think of.

There’s a saying for times like these: "No matter how you feel, it’s what you do that matters." And I guess there’s some truth to that.

Fuck it, I’ve got a phone call to make.

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