last day of August

I’m not sure what it is... writing an email or a blog post feels inordinately difficult these days.

The summer has felt a little too quiet and inward, a little bit like I’ve been spinning my wheels on the writing front. I started working on a story that wasn’t working, then kept working it to try and finish a draft, convinced throughout that it wasn’t working…but that maybe I could go back and fix it?  And sometimes it does happen that things you aren’t sure about turn out later to be okay.  But not so in this case.

But the setting was beautiful, even if the writing was not.

        

    

Since I've been back in the city, though, things have been better. Old works-in-progress have been looked at, and I've taken heart from how much I like them. I've also been trying less hard to make the summer about work...and make it more about summer, with reasonable success. And there's still a couple of days left...