129 – writerly angstiness

It’s been a weird year, and I’m in a weird space at the moment. Not exactly writer’s block (I mean, you’re reading this, so I’m writing, right?), but not exactly not writer’s block either. Every time I open the draft of “Flak Be Nimble,” my head explodes, and I will do anything short of standinAllBadWritersAreInLoveWithTheEpic-Hemingwayg on my head and whistling Dixie to be elsewhere doing anything but writing.

But… I feel as if I’m on the edge of something, and I just have to reach out and find it. Maybe I’m right (write?), or maybe it’s just my dodgy little brain doing one more thing to keep me from Chicken Littling all over the place. Whichever.

Pick one. Or find something else entirely…


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