Okay, yeah. There's that. But why do I feel there's this anchor tied around my heart when it comes to writing right now? I've tried (and perhaps had a measure of success) but things aren't clicking. I'm thinking I'm at one of those enormous learning curves (why can't they be tiny and rather unremarkable?) and it's the fire that will refine my craft yet again.
I'm an optimist if nothing else.
My focus left me a little bit when my mom went in the hospital January 2nd. It blurred beyond retrieval when she died on April 5th. But that's just a tidy, convenient excuse, ya know? Believe me, my mom would have a word or two to say to me even linking her to this situation.
Books have been written about the Fear of Failure syndrome. And about the Fear of Success quandary. I'm solidly in the Split-Fear modality. I can relate to both. Just guessing here—but a complete recovery for my disorder may be a bit more difficult.
I'm leaving early Saturday morning for Tucson (yes, it was 109 degrees there yesterday) to try and finalize a few things with my sister. I figure I can live in denial for about one more week. Then I'll need to face the music.
With prayer, luck, and some good karma, I'll be able to create some fabulous music with my words when I return.
A girl can hope.
What I'm reading: Still reading Fox Evil by Minette Walters, and will likely take it with me to Tucson. There are some POV shifts in this book as well, but they seem to be handled with skill.
What I'm working on: Have the research for the corrections I need to make in that early scene. Just need to get the confidence to make them.
It's all better with friends.