Where the deuce is my mojo?

I’m not sure why it is, but at the moment I seem to have an empty head. I mean that my writing head seems to have run out of supplies at the moment, not sure why, except that i think I need to give myself a good talking to, buck myself up, shake myself out of it (or into it) gee up my ideas, make more of an effort, to get off my writing **** and just get on with it. I feel as if I’m limping along, a few lines here, a bit of something there, a bit of a scribble, a great deal of pondering,  engaging in numerous displacement activities – even housework/tidying/cleaning, instead of writing. I have several projects which need finishing, I have several other ideas for new  things, I just seem to lack the impetus to start – or finish.

It’s a new thing for me, because in the past I’ve always been able to just write about anything – even when I’m not physically writing I’m writing in my head. Even that is stuttering at the moment – I have some mental characters who are just stuck in a dance class – they can’t finish it and go out and have a coffee, or go back to the hotel where they’re staying, or get in the car and carry on with their journey. In the past I’ve even semi-boasted about how I can keep on writing, that’s hubris, I guess. Even during lockdown, I wrote, and wrote many different things. When I went away for six weeks I scheduled daily blogs for every day I was away. That was then, this is now and now every word written is like pulling teeth.

Well, I will carry on and hope by jogging along I will get writing-fit again, and get back in the race, publish my next Thomas Radwinter book, finish the story of Jay,  solve the mystery Mike Scott is facing, help Frederico discover what happened to his wife, help little Peggy discover the secret of the lighthouse and find where the deuce I put my mojo. I can’t help but feel the boggart is somehow responsible.

PS my featured image came home with me from a junk shop in Wales, maybe he is my new replacement mojo!