I have bloggers’ block.

Lately, all I’ve been able to do is blog about the various guest posts and interviews and reviews that I’ve been doing for my book’s blog tour.  Don’t get me wrong – those posts are absolutely fabulous, but this blog is about so much more. It’s about paranoia, synesthesia, the zodiac, theoretical monkeys, Facebook, natural disasters and bad grammar, all the things the universe is made of.  This blog has it all.

Or rather, this blog it had it all. Because recently I have been completely unable to blog about anything unrelated to the book.

It’s a good problem to have, but there are several other things I want to post about. The problem? I sit down and my mind goes slack. I’ve been able to complete work projects. I’ve been able to write fiction. But blog posts? Nope.

Gloria Swanson in 'Sunset Boulevard' or me with my backlog of unfinished blog posts? You decide.

So, in a last ditch-effort to prime the pump, I’m doing what mediocre writers have done since the beginning of time to get rid of writers’ block: I’m writing about it. Right now. It’s like making a movie about Hollywood or singing about rock and roll, but lamer.

It’s not like I haven’t tried. I’ve been starting blog posts all week; I just haven’t been able to get anywhere with them. This week, according to my WordPress drafts folder, I started four posts. They are titled, according to the folder:”Playing in the dirt,” “Wit and sarcasm are related, but they’re not twins,” “Starting a new habit,” and “Betrayed by an author.”

My plan is to finish one of those four in the next few days.

I could, actually, dig much further into my Drafts folder, because all told, there are 39 unfinished posts hanging out in there. Some are two years old. Most are untitled. Some went to the Drafts folder to die because I felt they were unfit for public consumption; either they were too boring (“You’re getting very sleepy”), too confusing (“Story-telling and the shovel”), too niche (“Lovecraft!”) or too angry (“Natural selection: a child-rearing philosophy.”)  But some of them look kind of intriguing: “Email from the 20th century” might be decent, as could “Why I hate Fight Club,” a beloved rant of mine. And then there’s “British education scandal,” which, if I recall correctly, has nothing to do with the U.K., education or scandals. I may decide to resurrect one of them instead.

One thing I know –  in the next week I have to write something, and it’s probably going to be something from the Drafts folder. Have a preference? Want to hear about my betrayal by authors? More interested in sarcasm vs. wit? Do you also hate Fight Club? Leave a comment.