Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the inevitable letdown that follows the attainment of a long-sought prize: what happens next?
At any rate, my energy levels have been so low I haven't accomplished much of anything since our vacation in July. I meant to have my current manuscript in publishable form by September; now it looks as if it may be much later than that, simply because I haven't looked at it in weeks. I have the germ of an idea for a new novel, but I've been too lazy to sit down and write the outline that exists, rather fuzzily, in my brain.
I have managed to keep up with work, and I can point to one rather complicated and long assignment that ate up a lot of my time and left my brain in a muddle.
But, I have ignored some other pressing obligations, such as typing up the minutes of a meeting (I seem to always be elected secretary) and getting my notes ready for a talk I am to give Monday. This is really urgent, and yet I plan on taking my granddaughter to a movie this afternoon. So maybe tomorrow ...
I could name a dozen other things that all cry out for my attention and I am figuratively stuffing my fingers in my ears and pretending not to hear.
This isn't writer's block, it is writer's slump. It's like looking at a basket overflowing with clothes that need to be ironed, and going to the closet to find something else to wear.
Sooner or later, the clothes will need to be ironed and that manuscript will need to be finished.
Maybe when it's cooler.