Writer's block

You all remember this right? How awful, depressingly sad that was? Well... this is worse.

Welcome to writer's block.

(Source)

One, that has to be the most attractive picture of Woody the cowboy I have ever seen, but it really has nothing to do with my post, I just wanted to share it with you.

Two.... things are gonna get ugly.

I'm depressed. Really, down in the dumps sad. I've been writing for days, I have two books currently in progress and a fanfic that's struggling to survive.  But I'm just worried. I don't want to spend the rest of my life writing someone else's characters and novels that never make it past page twenty.  How many closet writers out there actually make it into publishing? Not alot (Emilie, that grammar error was for you. It's killing me not to correct it.)

But I want to write; I like to write, I'm just worried it will never get anywhere. I want to write something impacting, something C.S. Lewis, Doyle, Austin, Stowe, world changing.  I don't want the lasting books of the century to be Twilight and Harry Potter.  (Sorry to all you twihard, mud throwing potter fans)   But it's hard; I'm not sure how to get going, or even where my ideas are going.  Where is my Sherlock, my Watson?Where is my Spock, my Kirk? My Darcy and Elizabeth? My Woody and Buzz?   (Ah, see that picture did come to have a point)

So there's my piece. I will now step off my soap box and go stare aimlessly out the window pondering with my hands behind my back and wondering what would happen if I got one of those little bubble pipe things to mess with while I brain storm.

........ I'm not sure I want to explain that. All I will say is that I have an odd obsession with putting things in my mouth when I think. Paper, hair and pencils. Also Popsicle sticks. So a pipe (minus the brain cell killing tobacco) seems.... logical.