Odd how it always begins.
And ends.
And begins again.
I think the linear path our lives follow is interrupted by circles–doughnuts on the highway as we drive on through the events building our being.
For me writing is a series of those damn doughnuts. I do it all the time. I can’t live without it. I rarely do it for myself and when I can I make excuses not to.
Sound like a bad habit? Yeah…one that needs to break.
Last night I reconnected with a friend of mine who has managed to pull a novel together (part of one at least). He’s published Part One in a series, serialized it. I didn’t ask how successful it is because that doesn’t matter. He wanted to write and he did it. I want to write and I don’t.