It's focused on my writing. I haven't been happy with my last two class assignments. They're not terrible; they're just okay. I haven't felt inspiration. I know I can't wait for inspiration--at least not if I'm a real writer. You/I have to write whether you are/I am in the mood or not.
Recently, I did some newspaper searches for Sylvanus Merwin. I was psyched to find information. But in the 20 something articles I found, only one or two were minimally helpful. The two local books I read didn't add much to my understanding (and were pretty badly written.) I actually haven't done any writing. At least I could work on some background.
I attended a good conference on Saturday--specifically the lunchtime seminar. Desmond Hall the instructor inscribed his book to me, "You were great in the seminar! Look forward to reading the story you come up with!" I felt so proud.
Where did those good feelings go? Why does self-doubt take over so easily? Why does the question of "am I really a writer?" resurface so often? Am I too old to be able to write something?
My self-doubt extends to other areas. Sometimes, I wake up in the morning stressing about what to make for dinner. I worry about wasting time, managing my time. Why am I such an inefficient cleaner?
Why does it take me so long to finish things?
Lots of questions, but I don't have answers. I'm going to keep writing and try not to sweat the other things.
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