The last story was quite draining to write for some reason, and between late nights, work, and a bit of burn out I haven’t felt particularly inspired the last few days.
Then Mre B reminded me that the sole purpose of this writing lark was just to enjoy writing every day – if it was snippets and fragments, poems, descriptions, contained short stories, or cliffhangers, all were good.
They’re right, and it was a timely reminder of my habit of making life difficult for myself by setting stupidly difficult targets on occasion that can set me up to fail.
So, more diverse fiction pieces may well be occurring, and hopefully will keep switching things up, over, and around.
Oh, and the day job is being pretty intense this week, but nothing much that captures the imagination beyond the sort of usual grouses you’d find in any job with the public and limited resources.
That said, I can’t quite believe that someone complained that I had too many books in the library…