I am currently in two workshops (I know. I know. Why? Right?), and I hope that I am not failing miserably in both of them.

I feel like my head is a thick mass of semi-hardened concrete. I am pushing through, trying to get something worthy of putting out into the world, and wondering why am I doing this to myself.

I know that it’s good for me to write when I feel like this because writing is what I want to do, and I have spent too many years thinking that I need inspiration to strike me to write anything, and I am starting to think that this isn’t true at all.

I am a writer. I write. I write whether I feel like it or not. Some days are fucking fantastic and other days are like right now…concrete hardening around my thoughts. Even now, I can’t come up with a useful damn metaphor but here we are, trying.

All I can do is just keep doing what I am doing. I did start a 30-day guitar challenge and I am writing a flash a day for my novel (which is not going well - again concrete head for the win). Also, my book has an ISBN so I know it’s getting real(er). Sending positivity to all my friends out there struggling. I see you.