|Just an awesome close-up|
of a squirrel...
for no reason at all.
I tell myself these are the reasons I haven't been writing but the truth is more complicated. I've grown somehow frightened of my manuscript. I am uncertain whether I have the strength and skill to fix the pacing problem I see or finish all the research required to get certain elements right. When I think of the careful reread I need to give the piece--and the outline I should probably make at this juncture--I yearn to both sleep and cry.
Lately, though, there have been moments--mostly while I am driving carpools or washing my hair--when I feel that connection to my characters somehow re-electrifying. I've started scribbling notes again, looking for the courage I need instead of just hiding behind my to-do list of laundry and shopping.
I feel like this odd, fallow period may yet yield something worth putting on the page. At least, I hope it will.