Sunday, January 31, 2016

Writing.

Why is it that whenever I have time to write, I'm just not in the mood?

I want to work on the book but its so complex, such an inner upheaval. Ahh memoir.

My manuscript is many words, but not written in the way I want it to come off. It needs to be deconstructed and rebuilt from the ground up. Makes me want to sleep.

But I feel it's my calling in life, so much that I sometimes have fearful thoughts that if I die tomorrow, or today, my anxiety struggles will have been for nothing. Seriously, that's how I think sometimes!

You should see me on a weekday scrambling to complete my copywriting projects when all I wanna do is sit undisturbed and write for hours. I'm beginning to think thats nothing but a fantasy.

So is the idea that a cottage would help. I'm  not even sure Starbucks can gelp me today.

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