This is already a good morning.

I had another interview this morning about the warehouse job with the woman who'd be my immediate supervisor, and I'm crossing my fingers because I think I did really well. The job sounds perfect for me at this rate -- good pay, good hours, and steady work. I wasn't looking for another manufacturing/warehouse job, but this one's too good to pass up and they seem to treat their employees really well.

And now I am home and watching the second episode of Project Runway Australia.

( Spoilers )

Status of the writer

Uh, there is none?

The creative part of my brain feels like a desert right now. Just completely barren. Absolutely nothing's been flowing lately. Consider my brain a wasteland. *headdesk*

Part of the reason I really hope that I get the warehouse job is that between the pay and the regular employment I think it'll do me a world of good in regards to my writing. Not having to worry about paying my bills or the fact that I've been making up excuses to get out of my house at this point -- I practically tripped over myself taking my parents up on their offer to go visit family in Massachusetts with them last weekend -- would be a nice change of pace. I can't believe I miss my last job a little at this point, if only because I had more social interaction and plenty of work time by myself to brainstorm, both of which helped my creativity immensely.

I tend to inadvertently tie a lot of my self-esteem into my writing, since it's the one thing I feel like I do well with any consistency, so when I'm not writing it makes me feel like shit, and that just makes things worse. The problem of putting it front and center is that I end up taking a lot of pride in people liking my stuff even though I pretty much completely shut down when people throw compliments my way and turn into the painfully shy geek I was in high school who can barely get a thankful word out even over the internet, and then when I slip into a dry spell I feel like nobody wants to be anywhere near me because, hey, who wants to waste time with her when she's not even that interesting without a pen in her hand?

Hence, longer dry spell. *sigh*

Currently, I'm struggling to squeeze out words on Heroine Addiction, which I spend a lot of time using to kick myself in the ass over by making grumbly self-deprecating comments about how it deserves a writer who's not in severe need of mental repair. I think I may need to redo my outline for the rest of the chapters in a bit more detail to get going there. Trying to edit The Grand Prize Winner is making me go cross-eyed, so I can't even imagine how blind I'd go working on Dead Men In Dark Suits or the Books of Boggs. And there's Blood Red Carpet and Chapter and Curse to work on but can't. I'd be tempted to just write time-stamp ficlets or something based on my novels just to attempt to generate something, but even that much feels like trying to squeeze blood from a stone.

The one thing I was looking forward to when I got laid off was the free time to work on my writing, and that's sort of gone directly down the toilet. So basically, the one thing that inevitably picks me up when I'm sad or depressed is letting me down. Urgh.

You know, it's times like this that I go and do stupid stuff like buy bacon-flavored gumballs. (What? They're bacon-flavored.)

Aw ...

I turned on MSNBC to watch Countdown and found out Walter Cronkite's passed away. :(