But when the time came, and I chose to close my notebook and lace up one of my three pairs of running shoes, I discovered that the hope was nothing more than that—a wish for an untrue thing to be true. Honestly, I have to confess, I’m not sure if I like actually running or if I just prefer it to sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper attempting (and failing) to be special.
But I hate feeling like I am just one more writer with confidence issues. It’s so cliché and uninteresting.
I cannot write because I have a cold. I need to conserve my energy.
I’ve decided to work from bed today.
“But I don’t like writing!”
“Few people do, bud.”
I mean, aren’t y’all tired?
I am suffering from the type of writer’s block that comes from having too many political conversations with Conservative Christians. It’s not that I have nothing to say, but rather that I don’t feel like talking to y’all anymore.