It’s 11:22pm and I’ve still failed to write even a paragraph. I think the problem is I don’t feel particularly wonderful today. It’s amazing how a little pain can block the writing flow. Or cause it to come in spurts. One hour, I’ll regurgitate a monsoon of words onto the paper, the next hour, I’m here, blogging.
Not that there is anything wrong with blogging, but it almost feels as though I’m wasting valuable words here, rather than putting them towards something more constructive, such as my novels. But I suppose this sort of rant is what allows me to purge my system of the things that clog my mind. Purging, it seems, is a good thing. Even as I write this, I feel a bit of the mental tension I was feeling diminishing.
Or maybe it is listening to Au lac de Wallenstadt that is soothing me. Whatever the reason, if not tonight, tomorrow, I will be on my way to writing another 10 pages.
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