Or that is what my self loathing side says at times like these. I took a two week vacation and then not two weeks later, took a four day weekend with my girlfriends in Chicago. Not much writing has been done in the last four weeks. Okay, actually? None. And it's amazing how much further away I feel from the whole process. Like I'm on the shore and my ambition is on a raft floating further and further away... If I don't dive for it soon, it might just fade over the indigo horizon... And there are things in the way...many, many things. Work, for one. They seem to expect me to actually, like, do stuff. Go figure. And school. Not mine, two new schools for two very little kiddos. I know I should enjoy the discovery of all things new with them, but part of me looks forward to big kids who are just a tiny bit jaded, who don't need to have me explain thirty times about what their new schools will be like, who their teachers will be and how many pencils they'll have in their book bag. I know. I suck. I told you that.
On the up side, once the whole school thing is hammered out (should be getting smooth by mid-September...), I will be back in the groove, I think. I have, literally, six different projects in mid-stream. I need to choose one and focus, and then move forward.
And despite feeling like an almost complete failure lately, I just got notice that a story I wrote a while ago is live over at The Rusty Nail. Check it out!