As I sit here on unemployment I have time to write. Scads of time. So much time that Jano (January's version of Nano run buy a group out of PA) should be a piece of cake. Yet I flounder.
I have all the laundry done and search the house for more. Should I take down the curtains? Wash the dog beds again? Maybe. Or not.
Why aren't I writing?
Perhaps if I leap, truly take the plunge and say I'm a 9 to 5 writer it will become my reality and then what do I do?
I'd have to produce published pieces, right? I'd have to be accepted into a world I've been half-heartedly banging my head against for years.
Success? Would that be an invasion of my privacy? Do I fear that? Having to go out into the world and smooosh with people? Frankly, I'm not much of a smooosher. I'd rather do the fly on the wall bit and watch people.
Or do I fear letting people down. Mostly myself. Admitting to the world and my own soul that writing really is just a hobby that will go nowhere. How sad is that?
I think I'll go lock myself in my home office now and just open my story (aptly named "No Apologies") and see what's there.
So fellow writers....do you fear the leap? Or just jump in?
PS: That's my foster dog Leena. She's up for adoption in New Jersey through
Castle of Dreams Animal Rescue
