For the past five or six years, I've written pretty much nonstop. Ideas weren't a problem, even when the writing itself came slower rather than quicker. I definitely had my good periods versus the bad, but I somehow always managed to get the writing done.
Since July of this year, I've had writer's block...and if I want to be completely honest, the block itself started well before that. I never really understood writer's block before - I had a period of it several years ago, but I was still trying very hard to get a few words written a day. This last bout wasn't like that at all. My stomach churned every time I opened a word-doc, and the place in my head to where I once retreated for inspiration had closed for business.
I decided to wait it out, which was difficult. As a writer, writing is pretty much your favorite thing to do, and when your favorite thing to do is inaccessible for reasons beyond your comprehension, it's...well, devastating pretty much sums it up. But waiting it out worked. I'm not writing as much as I would like, and when I get home from my rather exhaustive job I don't always feel like cranking out the words, but the ideas are there. The ideas. God, how I missed the ideas. They kept me company in traffic, entertained me when work was slow, and lulled me to sleep every night. I haven't had that in at least five months.
Well, the ideas are back. The inspiration. I know what I want to write. I have ideas, and that excited feeling with which only writers can relate.
I guess the moral of this story is...writer's block is real. I was once told by an author that writer's block is completely fictitious, which is the biggest load of bull anyone could feed you. But the good news is it's not permanent, no matter how permanent it feels.