I'm definitely stuck.
Writer's block is an understatement. I feel as though my Muse has been starved, bludgeoned, and then repeatedly knifed in the stomach before being chopped into little pieces. She's not coming back.
My instinct tells me to read, read a lot, read a lot of short stories that will inspire my creativity and will coax a new Muse out of hiding.
I've done that the last few days - that and an almost normal amount of sleep. It seems to be working. I signed up for a literature class at my college. It's 19th century literature. The fabulous thing about graduate level classes is you get to make it your own. I'm making this class a study of hopelessness and mental illness.
Yesterday I bought the complete collection of Poe after being dissatisfied with the free kindle version - the formatting is bothersome. Today, I am going to make a bowl of popcorn or maybe something healthier and pop in the DVDs of the Vincent Price movies and readings of several of these stories. I'm pretty sure that while I'm enjoying the movies and stop fixating on my stuckness a new Muse will sit down next to me and whisper some great ideas into my ear (hopefully in a creepy Vincent Price voice).
I also decided to re-join Write 1 Sub 1 - the monthly version - and commit myself to writing a series of short stories, mostly in the historical period of the novels I'm writing. Nothing bad can come of it. I know it's a little late in the year to start, but whatever, right?