January 01, 2015
The First Day
I lost my mojo for a little while there. My moxie fled. I couldn't get up for the downstroke.
From late summer through until now, I've been mired in publishing hell. Which is nothing totally new, but this situation is different from previous experiences. The quicksand sucked me down. Too many hours, days, weeks have been robbed from me. And it's not over.
When I can't concentrate on writing, my energy does strange things. I'm always up. Really. I have poor sleep habits. But I like to focus on the words. And with bullshit nagging at me, I have a difficult time. The words still come, but they're strange and garbled. Another language. One I can't always decipher.
On top of that—I had the virtual wind knocked out of me this fall. I was taken by surprise, which happens a lot. Honestly. Even after all these years, I'm an accidental ingenue.
So suddenly I find myself erring on the side of caution. Sliding into the Levis armor. Playing it safe rather than sorry.
That's okay. I like the fact that my forties are more about new beginnings rather than old favorites. When one door closes another opens? Fuck that. I'm knocking down the doors this year. I'm tossing all the keys in the air. And I'm blowing up the buildings.
I've got plans for 2015. I'll let you in on them as I bring each one to fruition.
And sure—I still have to deal with the great sucking quicksand. But I'm walking around the perimeter. I refuse to fall in.
I think it's back.