When I get blocked, it's like a sink: nothing goes out until the nice men from the town come along with their bottle of acid to burn away the fat/gunge downstream. Then I pay them, and everything and everybody goes away, and peace returns.
As with your solution - self-created stories - the true saviour is indeed action, which was why pro life was much easier to handle from the productivity angle: somebody else came up with the needs and you provided the satisfactions (usually, but not always). Inertia, bloody inertia.
It's easy to think in terms of inspiration - lack of - as being the problem, and to a large extent that's also true for pro life, because travel was always sure to generate new ideas and mental perspectives. That admitted, local can also be productive, but being productive in a set direction does not always mean it interests you after a while. As mentioned before, I know I could go out every day and come back with something from the local town, but having done that a lot, I feel no desire to do it again right now.
Some women seem capable of going shopping, and resolving almost everything in an afternoon. Lucky those like that. I went shopping for a pair of Levi's some weeks ago, paid through the nose for them (before Trumpian VAT) and, so far, have never worn them. Shopping wouldn't work for me, even if I were a woman; probably depress me even more, and I suspect that blocks are a part of, or even cause of depression on some levels.
I guess it's another of those things that we pretend that time will cure. I think it takes something else other than time.
