Saturday, February 19
A thought to ponder.
I do not write professionally. I don't know if I even want to. I have never submitted a manuscript. I cannot imagine my life without my job as a CNA. I love making that difference everyday. But, why does is frustrate me so much that I haven't been able to get those first words down on my new project?
I have a great idea, plans laid, brainstorm done, but no words are coming. I can see what I need to write. Still, a blank page and filename is all I have. Granted, this is by far the most complicated plot that I have ever attempted. But, damn it, I want words. I want something tangible. Not a movie in my head. Why does this one matter so much to me? Never before have I been so stuck and not been able to just move onto another project whether it be writing, knitting or otherwise. Suddenly, it seems as if this is becoming much more than a hobby. I've been late to return from breaks at work, forgetting to eat, ignoring my family. All because I feel compelled to make this work. Somehow.
Is my soul dreaming differently than my thoughts?