I’m sitting in a room full of books, which are mostly dog-eared because I’ve read all of them, some more than once, I’ve got a 70,000 word novel on my hard drive which I peck away at like a chicken, I’d say its two thirds done now. I’ve written it, mostly to please myself. It’s the culmination of my experience and everything I’ve liked in reading all of these books, I just can’t bare to cull. I rather think I have taken the best of what I gained from reading them. I have shown some of this novel to other writers and I have had more favourable than unfavourable comments about it. These people know what they are taking about IMO. The problem is I think I’m bored with this novel, I’m now two thirds into it. What I need is some sort of cattle prod the get those last chapters out of me, some people have actually recommended alcohol and drugs! Hey it worked for Hunter S Thompson and Bukowski why not me? But don’t worry, I’m too much of a health nut to throw myself down that path. I can’t say it’s really writers block, more like writer’s exasperation, I just want to get it finished; I know what is meant to happen in my story. When I do struggle to churn out yet another chapter, I really do think, its pretty good on the reread. I don’t doubt my capacity to finish the book. However, tearing it out of my brain has become so hard I feel tired after writing ten pages and its slow going, unlike in earlier chapters where everything just flew out of my tapping fingers. Have I hit some sort of wall such as marathon runners hit?