I'm trying to turn over a new leaf. It's time. BUT the leaf just won't turn over. I'm getting stronger after the pancreas procedure but I find myself wanting to stay stuck right where I am. Not moving forward nor backward. Sitting on the sofa watching time pass me by. Even the weather has improved to beyond beautiful with lots of sun and blue skies. And still I sit. Contemplating possibilities. Options. Opportunities. Sometimes contemplating nothing. Do I want to sit on the sofa forever and think sad thoughts about how upset I am that I have a pancreas disorder I do not understand. I fit none of the criteria for this illness, disorder, disease or whatever it is called. Research has turned up nothing. Zilch. Zero. Writing usually brings me out of any funk I fall into. I go to my desk now and slowly shuffle the papers. The stories. Scraps papers full of endless ideas for stories. Notes on how to improve "the" novel. Yet I still do not move toward...
"All the characters who have housed my stories now have permanent apartments in my head - I still have tea with them." bw