I'm wiggling my toes and getting some feeling back in my body as I emerge from the paralysis of indecision that I've been wallowing in for a couple of days. Otherwise, the longer I sit around trying to decide what to do next, the more frustrated I'm going to get with myself.
So, now I'm back to working on a project I started last summer. I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to transition from where I left off to where I want to go with the story next, but I'll never figure it out if I don't plant myself in front of the computer and start writing again.
As Anne Lamott says in Bird by Bird, everybody starts with a "shitty first draft" before they get to the good stuff. The only way to make progress is to take a figurative dump before I get constipated and the whole process gets blocked.
So, now that my son (and my husband) are napping on the couch, now's my chance to enjoy some peace and quiet while I can and get the blood flowing to my fingertips again.
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