I really should start writing again.
But unfortunately, this is all I really have to say:
Yeah, not a whole lot. It's like someone stuck something into the back of my head and drained all of my ideas, while simultaneously jabbing something in my back and draining all of my drive and passion. I'm left with...."meh". You can't write a book about "meh". "Meh" isn't all that interesting, and would most likely cause plot holes and flat characters.
One day there was a girl who was all "meh" and everything was boring and nothing interesting happened because no one cared, bla, bla, bla, blabbity, bla, bla. The end.
See, I've come to a little realization. Just because you have (or had, before someone jabbed you in the back) passion for something, it doesn't mean you're good at it. You know what I feel like right now? I feel like one of those poor bastards on the American Idol auditions. They actually think they can sing. Like, fully believe 100% that they can sing. And then they sing and they suck the moose. That's how I feel right now. Only with writing. And without Steven Tyler zoning out in the corner and making comments that only make sense to crack addicted raccoons.