Here I am at my desk.
My fingers feel relief to caress the keys.
I wonder what keeps me away from them.
Is it fear?
Is it worry?
Maybe it is the thought of a whole book.
That is a big deal, a whole book.
Words do dance in my mind.
Why do I keep them there?
I get into a cycle of wanting to write,
Not writing,
Feeling bad about not writing,
And then I am
Paralyzed
(I can’t even figure out how to spell the darn word!)
What would I tell myself if I were my friend.
(That’s a concept!)
I would say what my mom said,
“Inch by inch it’s a synch,
Yard by yard it’s hard.”
Think I’ll go do an inch of writing.