A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-And-Sixty-Nine

So, it happened again and I missed a day of writing.  I won't beat myself up about it, but I do have some worry about it.  I think I know what it was.  Partly, it was circumstantial.  A close friend of mine came by last night and he is going through a rough time right now, so I was up late with him and a lot of the conversation was on the heavy side, so I was kind of drained when he left.  I could just blame that, but I know it is not true.  I think the real issue was that I felt kind of intimidated or scared, or maybe those aren't the right way to explain it, but it was a sense of not wanting to get to work because I might not be able to produce something good.  I had an idea for a story already and was kind of feeling a bit overwhelmed with it, I guess, but mostly because I had been thinking of how I feel like I am finally getting a handle on writing my daily flash fiction, at least in some sense that is purely about the ability to get something fictional done, whatever the quality of the piece.  I think that I was pressuring myself about it and I responded to that by running away from the work for a hot minute.  Of course, I am glad to know it didn't take me long to get back to work again.

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