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Well I WAS Writing

This is embarrassing. Remember yesterday, I took a sick day because it was just too much trouble to type in all I had written for a post. Today I am feeling much better, thank you, and I sat down to type.

And type and type and type.

What a long-winded yahoo I can be! Digression after digression! I found some of them fairly amusing, but perhaps I flatter myself. Doggedly, I kept typing, thinking I could edit. Ooh, but I’ll just leave that one in. Oh, and that’s a good one. Hmm, that could be a whole other blog post.

I was almost up to 1,000 words and I wasn’t done typing. I’ll be honest: it was too much me even for me.

On the one hand, I feel strangely vindicated. After all, yesterday I had to think it was a little wimpy of me. I only had to type the thing in, didn’t I? Yet I took a sick day. Now I see if I would have tried to type it in, I would have been in tears. As it is, I’m getting a little wrist-to-foreheady.

I think it is shaping up to be a pretty good essay, all about the problem of setting vis a vis the novel I am currently writing (I determinedly refuse to say “attempting to write”). Sometimes writing about writing is a good way to ease back into writing. And sometimes the only blog post I can manage is writing about not writing.

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