Another week, another fizzle in the writing department.
I could produce a veritable tsunami wave of excuses, but the bottom line is: Didn't write. Thought of writing. Still didn't write. Read a little. Ran around a lot. In tight, little, nonconcentric circles.
I've got to face facts: My life is a bit of a runaway train right now. Not conducive to the meditative, introspective act of fiction writing.
It is humbling for me to see, plainly, how much more structure and organization my life requires, if I want to accomplish what I want to accomplish at work, at love, spiritually, creatively.
But, I vow to rise to the challenge! Hope all others are experiencing more satisfaction and success in their literary endeavors. I think at this point I will be quite happy if and when I can finish reading just one of my many bedside books!
