I'm going through that phase where i don't have a clue what's going on. No, i'm neither talking about Brexit nor that jaguar who got killed by Olympics. I'm talking about lack of concentration and probably, writer's block. I must admit that i've always been scared of blank pages. I might have a thousand ideas in my head but i don't remember a time in my life when i didn't go nervous sitting in front of a blank page. It happened during school days. It happened during polytechnic days. It sure happened during college days (no wonder i dropped out). It happened during transcription days. It happened during journalism days. It's happening, again, nowadays. To be frank, the whole affair is a dissolving emotion. You look at this bully of emptiness and you're scared that it will consume you. The only way to defeat it is by punching in the keys but you don't want to rush either. You might end up with rubbish work. So you take it slow. One sentence at a time. And before you know it, you've wasted an hour writing less than five lines. Yes, that's what it has come down to. At this rate, i won't be able to start/finish that once-in-a-lifetime-novel i've been mulling over for over a decade now. The whole situation sucks. However, i've got a remedy for now: i close my eyes and imagine myself in a prison filled with dangerous people; hardened criminals whose boners can't wait to own my ass and i'm there all (over)tattooed sitting in the centre in front of a blank page diverting my focus to filling it up with words.
When i open my eyes, i write like magic.