Still haven't finished last weekend's story. At the beginning of the end, the third section, but that's as far as it goes. I've got excuses, of course-- work, life, existential angst, ennui, deep doubts about my artistic ability, blah blah blah (have I mentioned my worrisome new teeth? I mean, today?) --but I'm no better for having them. But then, neither are you.
What's keeping you from writing? I mean, really. Let's get off fiction for a moment. There's only a couple of people posting here, not counting the nepotism of me, myself and I. Obviously my last few posts haven't been fiction. A couple have been outright raspberries at the silence. Silence is galling when it isn't called for. So tell me. Lay it out. Explain it to yourself, with your own mouth, and see how it sounds. Is the excuse actual? Does it excuse your reticence, or is it just an excuse?
I won't think poorly of you if you don't comment. I don't expect results. No promises have been broken, it's merely that I know what's keeping me from working and why. I'd like to hear your version.