| Writer's Cramp - General |
I've never felt like I simply HAD to write. Except now. I don't know if it's a sign of maturing as a writer, or maturing into a professional writer, or a sign of dementia and obsessive-compulsive disorder, but I suspect the later. Be that as it may, it's an odd feeling.
Mornings I stagger out of bad having slept badly because of phrases for books that I need to write. Coffee and words are preferabl companions. Which is good up to a point. It's Juyl 25th, and so far, I've written, edited and completed FIVE books, in addition to the flotsam and jetsam of writing on blogs and social media. That's ahead of schedule, since I was planning to do six books this year.
My summer is littered with words, like sand crabs on a beach, and there's noxious weeds growing between the cracks of the paving stones on the driveway.
What to do? Take a forced holiday? Or follow the gut feelings and forge ahead, workoholic like. Have you been here? Share your thoughts.
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In the sixties "You could get anything you want (at Alice's Restaurant). Things change. Now, in the age of social media, you can BE anybody you want, and if that's not a huge shift, what is?
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