There’s something to be said about the difficulty involved in just writing. For it to be something that I thoroughly enjoy it is so hard for me to do. But when I am working on a story, whether it be short or long, I feel truly at peace and ease. A lot of the time in answering the question of where to go from here I surprise myself and there’s an excitement in that which is hard to really explain.

I haven’t seriously written anything in months save for planning and tightening up of plot and characters. The decision to scrap the old opening that featured the Angel of Death was one that I made very recently and plan to stick by for now. The opening seemed to perfect in some ways but it left far too many pitfalls for me and too many things unanswered in a bad way.

There’s a bit of anxiety when I think about writing now, that is something that I used to never have. So I need to stomp that out right away before it becomes something that takes root and keeps me from being productive. I have spent a lot of my time as a person who could pump out several thousand words a day. So it’s scary to be on the other side of the coin and it’s hard to describe until you truly feel it, much like the excitement that comes with writing.

So here’s to me, pushing back and hoping like Hell that I get somewhere.

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