I was just going over some old stories I wrote (or wrote most of, at least) and I can’t figure out what changed. I used to be able to sit down and write a story that, I was told, was well written and intriguing. I don’t know what changed, but I can’t even sit down to write the final three chapters of a book I know the ending to. Well, it’s technically a graphic novel, one of two that I almost finished, and only because they were my only fantasy stories and sometimes painting the world works better than trying to describe it with words. And instead, here I am, whining on the internet because I can’t bring myself to write another chapter on anything of mine that I want to finish (4 crime novels, 2 fantasy graphic novels, a western, and a war novel). I know the stories for all of them, and I can put the words together just fine, but I can’t bring myself to actually type or write them, for some reason I just can’t.
The worst thing about it is that writing used to be one of the only things that helped me survive, and now there’s nothing that helps me anymore.