It's strange how inspiration works. I'm not sure I even believe in it. I've heard some of the best writing has been done when the writer forces themselves to write, rather than waiting for the inspiration to come. Now that I've waited nearly two weeks, I think I'm finally ready to continue chapter 9 and keep rolling. I'm not exactly sure what started it, but it might have been a thought as I was commuting to school on the bus the other day. I finally figured out what should happen--at least temporarily--in a paragraph I was stuck on so I could move on past it. Later I realized; it was a paragraph that stumped me. Mind you, it was a hard hurtle to jump, but it made me think that no two paragraphs are ever created equal [eek, what bad cliches]. I just need to keep telling myself, it's okay to write crap. You can always edit it later. Now you have to just write. I wonder if talking to yourself is a required part of being a writer. Actually, I'm sure it is. Excuse me for my rambling.Photo: Trees at a hike when I went to Sedona, AZ. If you describe the trees as "bony" and the path beyond as "shrouded in darkness," it would be the perfect place for some kind of evil lair. Don't worry! I won't stay in Arizona for long with my pictures. With luck, I'll take some good shots in San Francisco this weekend. Hopefully at least one.
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