This was a tough writing week. I'm working on a project, a longer one and I'm about 16K words into it (by my estimate that's about 50 pages in a published book). I may as well have been writing in a car because I hit a wall. Crash, ouch. Perhaps it is the subject matter, which is myself, that is the problem, but I just couldn't write anymore. After a couple of days of not writing and then writing about something else, I realized...somedays I just need to be me and not write about me. This is the first time I've attempted non-fiction, attempted to write about something so personal. It feels very foreign. I enjoy the challenge of fiction (most days), and non-fiction, at least at first, seemed much less challenging and easier, but then...the wall. I think of poor Fortunato in The Cask of Amantillado...the pathetic jingling of the bells, and how the wall was not good for him either. Lured by the promise of something irresistible and he was then abandoned in the catacombs. Perhaps I am walling myself up; both characters with bells & bricks. I know for sure there is no way around the wall and it sure as hell isn't gonna turn into a door so I guess it's up to me to walk away from it.
Causes Katherine McWilliams Supports
The Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation jdrf.org Macula Vision Research Foundation mvrf.org Washington Office on Latin America wola.org/juarez