Those times when I just can't find the will to write.
I have noticed along my journey into book two (and no there is no book three to follow),
I find that there are times I simply can't find the will to write. Most of the time it is due
to being lonely, and deeply depressed.
More recently, it has been due to worry. My old man decided to go MIA, and we can't seem
to find him. And it is hard to want or to will anything out of me to write. It sucks.
But as life is, it is rarely fair nor does it make a lick of sense.
Though tonight I have managed to progress a bit on my story despite all the chaos going
on at the present, with my old man up and running about the boonies not wanting to be
found. But it is hard to make the headway that I have. Even missed this weeks meeting
with the local group, mainly due to car issues (stupid car).
That sums things up.
Corbyn likes this.
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