I just realized there is no diet coke in the house.
My hip hurts. My hip has never hurt before.
I am not liking it.
I went to a writing group on Saturday.
This was my second time going.
I think this is exactly what I need in order to make myself
actually sit down and work on something...
I need that accountability.
And it is obviously not working to pretend that
I will hold myself accountable
because apparently, I have a very soft heart
that believes every sob story excuse I tell myself.
And the great thing about this month's session
was that I admitted up front
that, while this was the start of a story,
there is a very good chance
that I will never finish it
because I have never finished ANYTHING in my life.
They kindly pointed out that I had indeed finished the story
that I shared the week before
but...that was like
That kind of story I can handle.
A snippet. A page or two. A scene. A scenario.
It's putting a bunch of those together
and calling it a cohesive story that I struggle with.
But after I read the group my story about Bernadine,
they told me I had to write more
because they wanted to know
what was going to happen next...
(and...to be honest...so do I!)
and that they would be expecting to hear more
at next writing group.