My house is clean, fridge is full, laundry is folded. Blog is updated, email checked, friends talked to on the phone. I've watched a movie, written in my journal, and made a pitcher of peppermint iced tea. All I have left is to write.
So why can't I make myself pick up my pen? The notebook is on the table, pulled off its shelf, the pen is resting on its cover. I've cut my writing goals in half in an effort to eliminate the fear that I won't write enough each session, and that seemed to help for about a week, but here I am, not writing.
I've tried to be honest with myself and questioned whether my hesitation is coming from the story itself, but I'm still very excited about the overall idea. I can see my character doing the things I have planned for him and I'm looking forward to the upcoming scenes. Maybe I need to skip ahead and work on those? I'm making very little progress with my current linear plan, so it can't hurt.
That doesn't resonate with me either, so I think for now I need to just sketch out the basics and worry about filling out the details later. At least that way I'll make some progress.