A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-And-One-Hundred-And-Thirty-Six

I have been having a lot of fun playing around with that concept of writing excuses for not writing stories and taking it towards absurd directions.  Tonight, I felt I did something quite good, especially since the story itself was built around having difficulty writing and around specific anxieties that I, as a writer, often do face.  In particular, it was about the idea of repeating old ideas, which is something that I have found myself thinking about quite a bit lately.  I mentioned that I wrote a story recently which was based on a poem that I wrote decades ago, and I also recognize that certain themes and ideas do come back up again and again in my fiction.  That is all normal, but so is the desire, at least for me, to run from that, to try and keep being fresh or new.  Beyond it being normal, I would guess it is largely inevitable, especially as one keeps going, but so is the anxiety of reaching a point where there is nothing new to say or do.  The thing for me is, I think, to recognize those things as opportunities in a way, and to think about how I can push deeper each time I find that I am again digging in familiar soil.