I keep losing the little clear thingies that go on the backs of my earrings. That's completely unrelated to this post, but I wanted to tell everyone that if you find any of them, they're probably mine. Even if I've never been wherever you find them. Those things can TRAVEL.
But back to relevance. I seem to have lost my flashdrive, which I had put onto a string necklace for the sole purpose of me NOT losing it. Alas, the greatest plans often fall to pieces. This is a huge problem, because without my flashdrive I can't write. Well, I mean, I can, but I can't work on the stories that I think are actually decent. If I can't find it soon, I'm going to launch a full search for it, meaning that the police, military, and small children will be employed. If I have to, I will call the President. I'm sure he doesn't have anything more important to do than search the world's next great novel.
I have this idea for a whole series, not even just a novel and then its sequel like I've been working on for the past three years, but a twelve book series that will be AMAZING. If I can ever get started. All the characters have been discovered, along with their looks and personalites. Yet I can't seem to start writing. The potential is there, waiting, wanting me to start, but every time I start to write or type, I hit a brick wall. Not cool, writer's block, not cool.
Another problem with my lost flashdrive: I can't work on the one novel that I've actually finished. True, I've edited it like three or four times, but I still want to go through it again. Every time, it seems as though I find yet another mistake, with grammar or sentence structure or time frames, and I want it to be perfect before I send it off to an agent. I'm well aware that even if I get an agent the editor will want to change things, but still. If I get it good enough, maybe less changes will be needed.
Anyway. I guess the whole point of this is that I have severe writer's block, I can't find my flashdrive which is essentially my child, and I'm all around miserable when it comes to being a writer at the moment. The only writing I've done has been on here, plus a poem. Not a good haul.
Oh well. Soon everything will be rectified. November is going to be here soon, and with it NaNoWriMo. Hopefully the forced writing from that will spark a fire, and I'll actually be able to write without it feeling like I'm ripping out my eyeteeth with a pair of pliers. A girl can only dream, right?
UPDATE: I found my flashdrive! It was in my bathrobe pocket, from when I took it into the bathroom with me because of my irrational fear that the house will burn down and destroy all my stories.