The funk we get into as writers, it’s foul.
We can believe in ourselves…
Even an entire year.
Then without warning, we agonize about not being good enough.
And we do it, for no damn reason at all.
Nothing traumatic or life changing happen.
We just find ourselves asking,”Do I want this?”
What question is that for a writer?
Hell yeah, we want it.
We get off on it.
We struggle with it.
No one ever struggles with something they don’t want.
Yet this funk is foul. It has a way of making anyone uncomfortable.
If you want to know what I am talking about, gather all the famous writers you know, or at least, the ones you admire.
Put them in a room. One whiff would light your nose hairs on fire.
It’s true. Every once in a while, we all get in our funk.
And of course, we all try to bury those thoughts.
We all do. Trust me. We do.
But I am not here to encourage you.
I’m in my funk and it has befouled my thoughts.
I’m hoping to write them away.
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