A few days ago I said something about a writing update. Then I got sick thanks to Husband.
I’m feeling tired but better today, so I pulled up my writing to get it together.
I read over what I wrote, sat back, and thought ‘Ok … where I am going with this?’
I’ve been working on it for the past hour and I haven’t made any dent without purging some or part of it.
I think I’m going to make some lunch, watch this movie on my queue, and come back to it. Hopefully I can have a fresher viewpoint by that time and can make some progress.
Update later, God wiling.
Uh … yeah.
I got distracted by Netflix, a good book by Jodi Picoult, and Husband in a snuggle mood. And now it’s time for bed. I feel so disappointed in myself, wondering if I’m up for the challenge of being a writer, when I see this quote by ultra-awesome author Sara Zarr:
“I was ready to write in my twenties but definitely not ready to ‘be a writer’ until mid thirties.”
Not excusing myself, but releasing some of the guilt I push on myself to be writing an epic novel or a zillion words every day. I work hard. I have a “house” to maintain and young marriage to tend to. I will write when I can and be proud of what I write.
Let’s see how long that pep talk sticks. Then I’ll start over again. HA.