I have nothing to write about. I have some story ideas, but the truth is, I really don’t want to write them. They aren’t bad ideas, but somehow, at this point, I can’t get going with them. I started one a few days ago. It was something that has floated around in my head for a while. I gave it a quick write touching on the highlights, something I usually do, and looked it over. My reaction was, “I don’t want to write this.” Now, I don’t even remember what it was about. I have several of those. False starts saved on my computer waiting there for me to return some day and say, “Oh yeah. I can do something with that. But for now, they just hang there like a dog abandoned at the internet gas station hoping that every car will be the master returning for the rescue. And occasionally I do open the folder, and the story begins to look expectantly. I open the file and the story begins to pant with expectation. Then, I close it all down again and the story stands wide eyed, abandoned, and confused as to why I don’t love it anymore.