Writing Bug Makes Nest

I’d like to say that I haven’t been afraid of The Blank Page all week, but that’d be a lie. My desire to write has outweighed my reluctance to write, by a lot. I’m so happy to come to this with a will, instead of with images of cruel overlords, who look like me, whipping me towards the keyboard.

Now I’m wondering: is this a visiting Muse? Is she staying? Does she like cookies? I can make cookies if she’ll stay.

Or can I give myself credit for forced habit formation? Did all those weeks of making myself write x words bring my natural interest in writing back to life (after it died in a university business program and an accounting job)? Not that it ever quite died, it just got sick, and weak, and… punk.

Whatever it is, I’m happy. I am going through my day with an inner ear cocked for Whatever to tell me it’s time to write. Then I hear it! It won’t shut up until I listen and obey. I’m not sure why that corner of my mind is a better overlord than the one that makes goals and lists and organizes things… Maybe because it’s skipping around with cool ideas, and not brandishing a whip.

It feels permanent. I hope I’m sensing that correctly, and not via the Wishful Thinking portal.