A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-One-Hundred-And-Sixty

I want to get to work on some essays.   I have been considering a number of ideas, but I have not started writing, and until I get something on the page, it doesn't matter.  There is an apprehension, a fear, around this work, but I am not certain what it is.  Even so, I am sure I can get myself over it by doing the work.  For one thing, the momentum of the work itself can take over at a certain point.  If I can get stuck in, can push past the first bump, it changes tenor and I can keep on without the same degree of difficulty.  For another, the writing itself will, inherently, reveal what is there, whatever that fear is.  I know that I am not writing these things in public, the way I do with this blog, so I can keep things to myself, but I suspect, once I can recognize the fear, it will be the concern of facing it myself that was holding me back and not some sense of vulnerable self-exposure.

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