All my muses are currently in comas.
I know, that sounds weird, but several times now I've sat in front of a notebook and have been just totally unable to write. It's not so much writer's block really, I just don't know where to start or end or anything. I know what I can write, but it's just not coming through, like there's a block in a creative pipe (so maybe it is writer's block) and I need a muse to come through and free things up.
This doesn't count because this is what it is - a ramble. Thoughts that float around in my head that really don't take too much creative thought (if any) at all. They're all there, my muses, I can see them all, but they're asleep, floating in clear coffins in a sea of starry darkness, like in some abyss I can't get to until I'm done with all this school nonsense. As though all this current junk causes so much interference they had nowhere else to go but sleep. Yeah, I know all that sounds melodramatic, but it sucks. Just as if you were a math major and couldn't get what you think is a simple problem to work out right and it makes you want to pull your hair out or cry. Or if you're a bio person and the experiments just aren't doing what they should be and there is no real reason why not. Ironically though, I'm not frustrated, because I know that it will all come back once I'm out of here at at home where I don't have to worry about homework anymore. I can focus on what I want to focus on and start sending out more things. Especially big things. Yes, big things.
My first book is all edited and pretty much ready to be sent to an editor/agent. I just need to make up some really good query letters and hope they like what they see. Rejection can bite my ass. I will be published. Even if it doesn't happen right away, I will be dammit.
All my characters are waiting. I just have to find the way back to them.
Currently: Searching for my muses