Several years ago, after losing several important people in my life, and in my children’s lives, I wrote a book called WAITING. I was filled with sorrow and I had to get the grief out. As I wrote, I wept. No. Not like that girl who cries at her own stuff. I wept for all the people who were gone. I wept because I had lost so much. I awoke crying. This time the sadness is different. The heartbreak is different. And my desire to write is gone.
I have plenty of ideas. Those continue to come to me. But.
I know I’ll write again. I have to. My editor is sending me rewrite notes–probably this week. I have two other books to rewrite. And then there are those ideas I mentioned.
Still, I wonder how I’m going to do this, and do it well.
Pfft.
We’ve talked about a Writing Marathon. At this point I’m not so sure I can write with you all, but I know I can encourage people to write. And I think we should do it the end of the first full week of August. Wednesday-Saturday? The 5th-8th? Four long days.
Interested?
Throwing Up Words 