The calm before what storm? That is the question.
As I’ve stated before, I’m weathering a lull in my creative processes and battling the occasional gremlin of discouragement.
If I was a hobbit with a band of elves and dwarves at my side, I might not mind so much the occasional gremlin scuffle. But seeing as I’m not (I’ve checked: no big feet on this girl) the struggle gets rather tiring.
I’m sure every writer faces bouts of perceived stagnancy in their career.
This life is so much a process of waiting and waiting and waiting, with the occasional triumphant highs having to rise above the seemingly constant swells of rejection or indifference, that it’s no wonder that a bit of calm, that a moment of stale status-quo, is seen as nothing but disquieting.
So it is with this unease I step into this new day.
If only I were a hobbit…