I often blame other people for my writing mistakes. Well, I say mistakes, but they rarely are actual mistakes. I regret them nonetheless.
Case in point: I have been struggling to write a challenge story for a contest I signed up for months ago. It's due next month. I have about 1000 words of at least 10k written. And it's not going well. Often when this sort of things happens, I try to go and write something completely different in the hope that it will inspire me. Naturally, it's something I complain to my writing friends about. It's why I have writing friends, after all, for the days when I can't write a thing.
Newest writing friend has been suggesting for days that I write something silly and funny and ridiculous, partly to entertain her and partly to just get the juices flowing again. I'd been doing very well ignoring this advice (I hate writing crack fic, I always feel slightly unclean afterwards), but yesterday it all went down hill. Which resulting in a texting war and a rather fangirl-y conversation on the phone...and two chapters of a story I have no interest in writing. My muse rarely cares about what I want.
What really bugs me is that I think it's actually helped. If I can get this silly crack fic done, I can get back to writing what I need to be writing (which isn't true, as I need to be writing my phd research, not fiction).
None of this is the reason I've been quiet again as of late. The reason for that is a whole mound of new duties in the department, a further increase in my already pretty bad stress levels, moving house (which took 3 days and resulted in a bad back) and a pastoral issue with one of the 'students' I'm now responsible for (which is still ongoing as of an hour ago, and looks like it will continue all week). There just aren't enough hours in the day!
Oh, and I have a telly again, so there's even fewer hours of 'work' time available.