This past week, writing has been daunting,
Leaving me scorned by the mighty pen,
Floating unanchored,
As if a branch of skills is screaming for attention.
The haunting question remains: how does one not use the blood of blogging as a distraction from the longer pieces that are boiling through my brain, begging for mercy to be written.
Without discipline for simultaneous both, I’ll end up a speechless ghoul.
Or purple worse:
A telltale, but fading heart,
In the sad, sad life of a writer.
Wild Nature of New York 
I have 100% faith that the beauty of your mind will always rise beyond ghoulish contemplation and momentary glitches to commit beautiful words to paper. Happy Halloween and Dia de las Muertas!
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I think we are all haunted by the ghosts of drafts not written ! 🙂
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Sometimes the things that remain only written in the human heart are the most important things we can ever write 🙂 . You know what it is longing to be said and sometimes that knowing is enough when it needs to be. -x.M
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Thanks so much for reading and commenting. This time, what’s longing to be written is a book of essays, some of which are in the works. I always feel the best when actively engaged in writing, and right now, I’m stuck on an opening, whether it belongs there or doesn’t. That limbo colors even the short blog pieces and before I know it, time is slipping, slipping, slipping into the future…
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