I’m really enjoying ‘The War of Art’ by Steven Pressfield and I’m reflecting on a chapter about what a writer’s day feels like.
I go through the chores, the correspondences, the obligations of daily life. Again I’m here but not really. The clock is running in my head; I know I can indulge in daily crap for a little while, but I must cut if off when the bell rings.
So many times I feel this very way. I know if I start something, like clean the house, I tell myself, okay after I finish vacuuming I have to get to the page. Making deals with my resistance/fear gets easier with practice and affirmation that yes, I want to write!
Until next time, keep on typing…