It's been a while.
So much real life is consuming my time that I feel myself becoming more and more grounded. That's probably the problem with my book recently. It's been more than two weeks since I've written anything fresh, my heads getting clogged and I can't focus. The weekend just isn't long enough, and I can't seem to relax and clear my mind for long enough to allow any ideas to develop.
I was so excited about this story, and now I can't seem to figure out the answers to the questionable gaps that are appearing. I need this book to be a good one, so it reminds me who I am, and drags my mind out of the whirlpool of reality.
I'm utterly lost. Even if I knew where the answers were I wouldn't have time to find them. a nasty little voice is snarling "Welcome to adult life" and no matter how many pencil skirts I wear or skills I learn, a part of me is just not ready to be grown up.