The Wabi-Sabi Writer

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After my nearly month long fling, an on again off again affair with words,  I am struggling to reach the climax of my novel.  I have to wonder if I have been medicated along with my main character, the Prozac of a process dulling my ability to achieve release, the looming deadline tempting me with a case of the fuckits.  Go out and enjoy the sunshine,  eat brunch, drink wine, watch movies or to hell with it all - binge...

It was a rough first week of words.  All my best intentions were muddled by stress and self doubt.  I would walk up the steep hills of my Cow Hollow neighborhood to try to give form to my ideas.  As the days passed and the word debt increased, I did find a thread to follow, a path to take, a dark and looming cloud that promised a rain of plot on the pages.  Yet, like San Francisco these days, nothing rained down.   It...