A Writer's Notebook, Day Four-Hundred-And-Twenty-Six

I've not mentioned it up to now, but my fiance had to leave town for a bit to deal with family health issues, and the situation is rather stressful.  She had intended to return tonight, but her plans changed and we are not certain when she will be back.  It seemed apparent yesterday that this was a probable eventuality, if I am honest, and I really wish that I could help her.  I have offered to go, but she does not feel that my presence would be helpful in the current climate. 

I bring all this up because I had a rather rough morning for getting to work.  Indeed, I neglected to begin my poetry writing, which is usually done by ten at the latest, until the evening.  Some part of me was even contemplating whether I could get out of the work altogether.  It seems rather ironic considering that yesterday I was writing an acknowledgement of my need to keep going in this way, or maybe some part of me sensed that this was due and was guiding me in advance.  In any case, I had a lot of difficulty in starting my work at all, and contemplated whether I should slack off, in whole or in part.

In the end, I did not succumb to that temptation, thankfully.  I sat down and got to work.  It is odd to think that I find it so difficult to start, as I do, in some sense, enjoy writing in some way.  It's not fun, but their is a pleasure in placing the words, in finding the right way to make the language do what I desire.  It often is a frustrating process, but I am always glad after, satisfied to have done the work, and I feel a strong sense of having created something of value.  I felt terrible before I wrote, and I think that feeling becomes a sort of fear of starting, but in the end, the real cure for that sensation is to do the work anyway.

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