I began writing a second book. I am in a state of prolific chaos.  Life sneaks in and interrupts the writing or vice versa.  I write as fast as I can and succumb to the critic in me, replacing words, meditating on the validity of what I am communicating.

I no longer journal; I have no time for first rounds.  I attempt to make outlines and follow them. It is challenging.  I'd rather dance, cook, read, photograph wild life, or watch the sun descend over the Gulf of Mexico.

Most days, I unleash old trappings and desires, walk to my desk, place fingertips on the keyboard and dare to type words.

I want to think it is the right thing to do.


August 2014 - California