I've had the Artist's Way by Julia Cameron for a long time, and, for some reason, decided to pick it back up and read some of it again the other night. I'd done the morning pages before but didn't stick with it. What a surprise! So, I decided to try them again. Hey, if it'll help get me where I need to be I'm willing to try. Thing is, I'm not sure they're helping. Sure, it's fun to sit there and write 3 pages of longhand stream of cosciousness kind of stuff because it doesn't really require a lot of thought on my part. But I still haven't done much of anything else lately except go back and forth with this one short story that's pretty much seen its death as of right now. And that's just it. I'm my own biggest problem. How many opportunities am I going to let get by?
Blah! It's weird to put that out there, but you know what, maybe it's good that I did because I need to see it. And I need to get my ass in gear and get busy writing.