I haven't really written in several days. Some of you have noticed. Part of that is a bit of stage-fright. I'm worried that I'll blow this amazing opportunity. Or worried that the truth will suddenly come out that I am a terrible writer unless I am abjectly miserable. (Perhaps the below freezing temps and small paycheck will help.)
But also, up until this last week, I have had so much on my mind that calming down long enough to write anything was tough. Now that school and a place to live are taken care of, I need to get back to my regular practice. This morning at the botanical garden I wrote for a bit about my trip to Utah all those years ago. The feedback I got from my readers was very consistent: tell me more.
I was also hoping to have a bird essay ready to mail to a publication by the 15th, but that doesn't look like it's going to happen. I am going to spend the next couple of nights trying, though. When I am not reading the Carson book, course. Which I dare say is a bit of a snoozefest. Don't tell the CNFpolice I said that.
Tomorrow, my home internet will be turned off. This is both about saving every dang penny I can and about reducing my distractions. While I can still post nightly to the blog from my phone, the acrobatics (videos, links, etc) will be tricky. I will be back at my parents house in less than two months, and will be back online then.