As the looming silence may have indicated (to my likely-nonexistent audience), I have fallen off the story-wagon. On the day of the 9th, I found myself completely, wholly, and miserably resistant to writing a story.

So I didn’t. I let myself deliberately choose to break my eight-day streak in the name of happiness. Because, honestly, as fun as a challenge is, I am not here to make myself deeply unhappy. The goal is to dare to try, not to depress.

I didn’t want to write the next day, either. Giant brick wall. So I didn’t write.

After that, it was just plain priority-switching. I dropped my commitment to writing a story every day, and my energies have gone elsewhere. I’ve been making jewelry and painting and thinking and studying Egyptian mythology and doing that thing called “work” so I can pay my bills. On occasion, I even sleep.

Now, however, I have missed six days in a row, and I think I want to try to pick this back up and see what happens. I am recharged and replenished; I do not feel that deep, lurching resistance to picking up the virtual pen. I even have a few story ideas floating around, niggling in my imagination.

So, let’s see how the rest of the month can go. :D