I’ve only gone and started a new one haven’t I!
I thought I could stop. I thought I was in control but in a moment of weakness I succumbed and now I feel dirty and ashamed.
It’s that same feeling, that idea that I’m doing something worthwhile. The feeling that somehow the recognition I might receive will balance my life in a way that’s currently missing.
What IS that about?
I woke up with the urge.
I went downstairs, made coffee then got straight down to it. In my usual position at the top of the stairs it took a while to get my mind going. That’s why I wanted to stop. It’s becoming harder to slip straight into it and yet still I can’t let go. I remained there until the words flowed, kidded myself that what I’m doing has value!
Oh the shame of the author.
I even try to do it in public sometimes!
The editing is okay, that’s kept to a minimum in the garret but it’s the flagrant display on beaches or in parks that’s so wrong.
All I can hope is this one is so crushing that it’s my last, although….I have this feeling I’ve begun…a trilogy. I actually think I might pull it off! I feel out of my depth, it feels way beyond anything I should be attempting.
Apparently that is a good sign.