When I can't write, like today, I love my painting; its the only place, like in my novels, where I can create, or conversely, destroy my own worlds. It isn't helping my writing but I'm having fun.
My problem isn't that I can't write. For a change I know exactly where everything is going, or going to go, but I just can't get it out fast enough. So I've decided just to make notes and give it up for a few days until what passes for my mind calms down a little. If I type it the way I want to, I'll just have to trash it all or spend so much time rearranging it into the correct order that it will defeat the whole object.
This is unknown territory for me. I usually begin a novel with a word, or even a line of dialogue, and see what happens. Now, I know exactly what's going to happen, and when. Maybe that's why it's become so difficult. The other way I can just sit there, guzzling tea and waiting for inspiration. This is how real writers are supposed to work, or so I'm told, with a beginning an end and a middle bit already worked out. Then just fill in the rest. It's a new experience and I'll have to see if it works for me. At the very least I might not have to go through it thirty times to delete off-topic meandering or sub plots that occur to me but which never go anywhere.