Fear of failure. Fear of humiliation. Constipated dialogue. Nasty feedback. Good feedback. Smoke being blown up my ass. Excuses, excuses, excuses.
As I sit here in the Pacific Northwest sun, an oxymoron most days, I finally said "What the hell."
No job.
No real hope for a job-this was not the "change" I was "hoping" for.
Nothing to lose, right?
I guess I'm going to find out.
As a dear friend of mine stated to me; "Writing is not hard. Just sit down and open up a vein."
Warm, flowing, drifting off..................
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