The Paperback Trilogy: Struggles Through Writer's Block

Trying to place myself into a trance. To learn but I should just write. Figure it out later on. Get something down. Watching Ian Fleming: Bondmaker. Finished. Feeling that I want his life. What do I know? How to write it? What is my manuscript? Will anyone read it? Have it near me. Still waiting for the idea to strike me. Where is it? Come on, hit me. Probably just continue waiting. Get ideas out there. “I’m going to write a book.” - Ian Fleming. Which one? What kind? It’d be cool if I write it in two days. Splashes of ideas enter my mind. Write them. Nothing really stays beyond a few paragraphs. Hearing the Pen striking the paper. When I pause nothing hits me. Words don’t come to me at all. Splashes don’t and do come to me. Hearing the Pen strikes. Sit down and continue writing. Get splashes of ideas every now and then. Wonder if anyone else can hear the Pen striking the paper. I could be doing something else entirely. Trying to figure out what that “something else entirely” might be. Give these words to myself and see if I’m happy about unless burn the papers. Save my ideas for a possible larger idea? I don’t know. Am I a serious Writer? Hopefully.

It came back to me. The feeling. Will she support me? Will I trust myself to let her read my novel? Will she tell me to change it? I hope that she’ll be there and support me. Time will tell me. When the time is right for me. When I’m totally satisfied with the novel. I need her to be here. I need her. I’ll meet her. When the time is right for me. I’m going to be happy when I see her face. I love her already. I just need to meet her.