What could you do more of?

Good morning,

I need to write more. I spend my days planning to write, organizing to write, and thinking about writing.  Who am I kidding? I spend my time avoiding the anxiety I feel just before I start writing. 

I feel anxiety with most things but with writing it is colossal. Because I want it so bad. I want my words to be perfect. I want my sentences carved into the page like a master carpenter culling beauty from the dullest wood.

I have fully formed stories in my head, but somewhere in the transfer from the ethos to the page the magic is lost, and as the conduit, the fault lies with me. I am too disappointed in the work to continue.

But I persevere. 

I realize now there is a story I must write first before returning to my novel. I need to get some shit off my chest first.  So, I’m going to do just that.

Eryka