Covert Self-Portaiture

stockvault-mirror124347In an attempt to jumpstart my writing mood –which has stalled at the edge of frowny and fatalistic- I am shoving out another travel blog post today.

As I’ve belabored the point before, my travel blog is my blankie. Warm, soft and easy to write, I tuck my face into its familiar fluff and just breathe for an hour or two.

I have two issues with this: 1.) Who the crap has a writing blankie? Seriously. And 2.) Why am I constantly shying away from the final edits of The Hushing Days?

Unfortunately, I know the two answers:  1.) Stupid, little me has a writing blankie, that’s who. And 2.) Fear, mixed with a genetic helping of procrastination.

Of course, this little exercise in self-examination means nothing, helps no one and is generally a waste of literary space…

*pauses, runs that last sentence through brain a couple hundred times and winces*

Well, crap. I hate when self-portraiture sneaks up and bites you on the ass.

Until tomorrow…


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