Frozen

In more ways than one, Gentle Reader.  The Midwest is under epic temps the past few weeks, so much so that This Humble Author’s pipes froze, and burst open.  The Mister and I came home to a mess, literally, but it could have been much worse.  Add to that a major conference in my field, and the start of classes, and I am frozen, quite literally, for writing.

Here’s the problem as I see it: I don’t know what to work on.  I have projects on hold because they are being shopped, and I don’t want to work on sequels because changes may be asked for in the first books.  Add to that a sense of despair–because what writer ever goes on the market without despair in her heart, I ask you?–and a loss of Writerly Identity, and we have one mess of a girl.  Me.  A mess.  Literally.

Literally, it seems, is the word of the day.

So I crowdsource you, Gentle Readers, to ask if you have any tricks or exercises you use to get the writerly juices flowing, as it were.  Any ideas?

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