The more I write, the less I want to write.
It's been awhile since I've written anything here, but not for lack of trying. I just don't seem to have the wherewithal to write anything for myself once I satisfy my professional writing requirements. Truth be told: I'm sick of having to think... and type.
That's not to say that I don't have ideas free-floating in my mind; I just haven't felt like sitting down and actually fleshing anything out.
I'm such a bad writer.
Perhaps my saving grace here is that I've been reading a great deal more than usual. If reading is the barometer by which I measure my happiness in life (the more I read, the happier I am, usually), then I must be positively gleeful these days. The good thing about that is when I read voraciously, it usually helps my writing. Professionally that's a good thing. Personally, not so much.
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