The first thing I won't mention is how long it has been since I have written anything. Because I look ahead. Not behind.
Moving on.
So, I have been thinking a lot lately about writing a book. It is something, I'll admit, that I have tried and failed to do before. Perhaps several times.
But then I think of the whole host of other things that I am trying to do-- lose fifteen pounds (which does take time), teach seventh grade (also time), make quilts (time again), and then my lovely aspirations of becoming a novelist seem to shrink like the Wicked Witch of the West in contact with water. Here, the water is my other aspirations, and Dorothy seems to be the kill creativity vibe that resides in the lazy part of my soul.
However, I do read a lot. In fact, I have three other blogs-- one dedicated to eating well, one dedicated to the books I read, and one dedicated to my students for school. But when the logical part of my brain says: hey, you could write in the time that you are reading, my emotional and very TinMan/Scarecrow Lion part of me say: No way! that's my oil you're taking away. Without reading, where would my heart come from? Where would all my courage go?
In fact, the number one thing that takes up my time ( I mean, besides gilmore girls and downton abbey) is reading-- but ironically, without books, my drive to write decreases exponentially.
What's a girl to do?
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