So what does one do, when blocked beyond all comprehension? When the project you loved with all of your heart lies abandoned upon the desk in a dust gathering pile of no hope? I have no answers to offer, and when I can't find words of my own, I turn to the words of others and I read. And in a way, I use it as an excuse to read for hours in a day - because somewhere amid the words of another, I will find my voice lurking behind the ink on their page. It will niggle and jump up and down and demand my attention, like a small child whose mother is on the phone talking. Eventually, after I ignore it enough by spending time with others, my muse and my motivation will edge its way back and demand I give them the attention they think they suddenly deserve. Eventually.
Until then, I will read. And when the magic returns, so will I. And judging by the noise in my head as I write this, exposing my muse's resistant behaviour, I am guessing that I will be back at it sooner than I ever imagined.