Currently re-reading - Storm Front by Jim Butcher
Somehow, somewhere, I lost my fabled kernel of arrogance. I don't know if I lost it down the drain when I showered, if it rolled under the couch, or if Wonder Dog buried it in the back yard.
The current wip just isn't congealing, and now I'm doubting my own abilities. My poor crit group had to deal with my online mental breakdown last night. For that, I'm truly sorry, ladies.
This is probably one of the suckiest things about writing. The more you learn, the more you realize you don't have a fucking clue. And with this wip, I'm definitely stretching myself.
When I've gotten stuck in the past, I've cleaned. Or killed somebody. Usually, a break-through happens while I'm scrubbing the toilets or taking a brush to the grout. Or bleaching blood off the linoleum.
Time to go whiten the bathroom!
On Not Writing
9 hours ago