sloshing through the mud

I've decided that sometimes writing is more like trudging through a pit of mud.  Imagine being knee deep in the thick, porous, brown gunk.  You're covered in the messy stuff from head to toe (there's even a little bit in your ear).  It doesn't matter how you got here, but here you are and you need to get to the island you see.  The island looks like an oasis, and it's ready to welcome you with open arms.  Unfortunately, you have to get through this mud first. 

At first, the going isn't too bad.  It's just a matter of lifting your leg up high enough to be free of the mud.  Sometimes you're successful and sometimes your shoe gets sucked off in the process. You think to yourself, "I can do this.  I can defeat the mud and be victorious!"  But give it a couple of feet and then you will feel the mud start to glue you down.  It's as though your being sucked into the vortex of mud.  You get tired and can barely nudge your foot, much less get your whole leg out of the stuff. All you can do is rest.  But, the longer you rest, the harder it is to get moving again.

Sometimes that's how my writing feels.  I get momentum going, and I do really well, and then suddenly I find myself stuck in place staring at the oasis.  And that oasis?  That beautiful place of respite and rest?  It seems nothing more than an illusion where if you're lucky you'll find a place to sit.  Who knows if it will give you all that it promised at the beginning of the journey?