I thought today would feel different. In some ways it does… I guess. My anxiety is ratcheted up a notch, even from its usual “stuck on high” setting. I feel uncertain about what I should be doing more of to promote it, but I’ve done that every day since I finished my first draft, so…
I am a walking set of contradictions, an enigmatic concoction of diametrically opposed ingredients. My parts are eclectic and difficult to reconcile. On one hand, I have a burning desire for my book to be read. I want it in the world, being devoured, and touching people’s lives. I want my book to succeed. I…
I sat at the table last night, staring at the backlit screen, cursor blinking after the last word I had written more than a day ago. I stared, waiting on inspiration to strike, the self-imposed deadline I set weighing heavily in the back of my mind. If I don’t write at least 1,000 words tonight,…
I sat in front of my MacBook yesterday, staring blankly at the screen, reaching deep within to find the words I wanted to write. No matter how hard I tried, or how deeply I reached, forward progress eluded me. No words were written that day. It got me thinking about the perfect conditions for creativity.…
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