Tips are Always Appreciated

My writing has stalled out and every day it makes me more frantic.

I sit in my normal writing spot and stare at my laptop screen. I sit in another, more desk-like spot and stare at lined paper. I go to the library, sit in an isolation desk, and stare at its walls.

It's not that I don't type or write or scribble words-- it's that the words don't coalesce into paragraphs or stories. All I get is gobble-di-gook.

On the other hand, I'm reading more.

How do I quit worrying and love the work? How do I get back in the rhythm?

This is making me wonder/worry/fret about all my life choices. Maybe I should have been a lawyer. Maybe I should have taken science classes (I've always liked science) and turned into a doctor/biologist/whatever the fuck that gets you paid and gives you something interesting to see and think about and do each day.

Not helping: my mother says I'm lazy. I'm also broke.

Is this writer's block? It's like I'm on the fucking VERGE of a tsunami orgasm, and can't-- quite-- go over the edge. Achingly horrific.

Please contribute via words of wisdom and love to the Save Sasha's Sanity fund.