For the past six months, I have had an illness—blessedly not contagious—called writer’s block. But just now, as I so begrudgingly drug my butt into the prophetic Writer’s Seat, I realized something.
I don’t have writer’s block.
I am afraid.
Something to read as I work on my next novel.
For the past six months, I have had an illness—blessedly not contagious—called writer’s block. But just now, as I so begrudgingly drug my butt into the prophetic Writer’s Seat, I realized something.
I don’t have writer’s block.
I am afraid.
