I haven't published a book in 4.5 years.
Last month, I typed the end on a 90,000 messy disaster of a first draft. The joy I felt at finally, after 10 months of baby steps, well - I can't even find the right words to describe the thrill and the relief.
Here's the rub. The logical conclusion would be - yes, I've finished a book. I can do it again. But if anything, the anxiety sits there waiting to grab me when I think about producing a new one. Will I or won't I? So I'm not gonna say that the block is broken or that I'll churn out six books in the next six months. I'm facing a monster edit that will take some considerable time. I still stumble over all this subconscious BS because let's face it - creative energy is emotional energy and there is only a finite amount to work with.
What I am is a storyteller. It doesn't matter whether it plays in my head, comes out my fingers into a story, or gets published.
For those who feel like your life is dominated by writer's block - the struggle is real. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.