Sink or Swim

Writing today has been like pulling teeth.  Every word I have gotten down has only been made possible by clamping down on it, extracting it with all my might and tossing it down onto the page, bloody and lifeless.

Maybe it's the fear of not finishing.  Though you would think that would just motivate me to work harder.

Maybe it's just me sabotaging myself, being a slave to distraction, to chores, to anything that has to be done now, now, right now, and my writing, in turn, has no choice but to sit and wait.

Or it could just be that I don't know where I am going next with the story and instead of trying to figure it out, I am wussing out and using it as an excuse to simply tread water instead of diving back in.

Maybe it's all of the above.