After weeks of interruptions, including a mind-numbing cold, I’ve realized my desire to just sit and write is based on an illusion that has just enough reality to be enticing.
Every now and then I have days when I do just write and write, when I push everything else aside, ignore the phone, and simply write. But no matter how much I long for those days, how much I strive for them, they come when they come, and mostly, they don’t.
Now, after a week away from my stories because of a bug, with all kinds of bits to integrate from Wordfest writing moments, I’m once again longing. Except that I’m longing to nap again, too, as I try to will my cold away just as I try to will perfect writing days.
Sadly, neither works. So, to nap, and then to write, in bits. And to wait for that perfect writing day.
Maureen
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