A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-And-Thirty-Seven

I spent quite a bit of time tonight working on some prose for the new project that I mentioned last night.  I'm hesitant, still, to say too much, as it is a private thing right now, and most of my interest in it is about what it represents on a personal level.  It isn't really a professional thing, at least not now, but maybe it will result in something of value, in that regard, down the line.  To be honest, it is a sort of therapeutic writing project, a way of putting my artistry to work in the service of literal efforts to grow as a person.  I believe that I have mentioned that I began working with a therapist, first in conjunction with my brother, but later seeing her more on my own.  As that process has continued, I've been finding it helpful, but I also recognize that I am butting up against aspects of practical reality.  I've been spinning around with the problems of publishing and the issues in my family, and the reality that I don't believe things can get much better without changes in those things that I have no control over.  At some point, I don't know exactly when, I had the thought that it might be good to be able to make it a writing challenge.  I mean, to use my writing in that process.  I had a thought of how, and I suggested it to my therapist and she was supportive about pursuing it.  I don't, as I said, want to say much about it, but so far, at least in terms of writing, I am finding it liberating and rewarding, and I feel it is propelling me in positive ways.  It is only just the start, of course, but I think it is off to a good start and am optimistic about it as a process.

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