I promised myself that this year I would again, devote a portion of my two week vacation to being a writer. So here I am. Bluffing my way into productivity, I hope.
Last year I discovered that the only way I was ever going to FEEL like a writer would be to…um…WRITE. For me, I guess, the connection to my storytelling impulse is weak enough that I have to build it up like a camper builds a fire…hauling spindly sticks of inspiration out of the mossy, dark, unpromising woods of my imagination…then banging my head against a wall like stone on stone in the hopes that something will spark. Gee, that’s an optimistic image eh? LOL. Well, darn it it’s an IMAGE. That’s a start. And I will take that start.
Now it’s off to the damp, mossy woods for me. Maybe I’ll see ya there.