Standing on the cliffedge, leaping off reluctantly and yet with joy. Wondering on the way down if I can fly, or will a crushed heap at the bottom be the end of it.
Having problems writing stories–story even, just the single one that’s still living in my head. It’s slowly oozing out on paper when they spilled gaily out before in waterfalls of words and commas. Not a block, no problem there I think, but more a discontent. Every word is scrutinized and cut before its ink is dry and settled in. Better, better–yes, but did the turtle truly win the race that day above the hare?
Tough. This is tough. And frustrating beyond belief. I wonder if there is a way to go exploring when so much here needs my study and attention. Branching out in new directions, taking paths that lead somewhere new and different; I wonder if I can, or should, at all.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
yes, you can (and should)
ps – I like the new site design