No, not the brain freeze you get when you drink your slush too quickly and it feels like someone is stabbing you in the head with an ice-pick. Brain freeze as in everything just *stops*. I know that there are words in there, idea’s and plot twists and character details, but as soon as I sit down and try to pour them out everything comes to a screeching halt and nothing comes out!
I am really good at getting in my own way. At making up excuses. At finding distractions.
There is something *really* good, and intimate and personal, bubbling just below the surface. My conscious brain is resisting it. No, not that. We shouldn’t draw back that curtain. No, really, you should keep that tucked away, hidden and safe.
So I am resorting to prompted writings and word sprints and whatever other exercises I can come up with to trick my brain into getting over it. A literary sucking of the thumb to defeat the dreaded brain-freeze. *rolling my eyes* Stupid brain.