Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Being a writer is weird.

My personality is probably more suited to being shut in for hours, days, weeks, months concentrating on one thing than most.

But I have to admit, it even gets to me.  I so want to go outside and go for a walk, get out into whatever sunlight there is.  Tomorrow, when I go to work I'll be glad to see some other faces, and talk about other things -- though I'll be awkward and out of practice.

Isolation breeds isolation.

But it don't get done otherwise.  I just don't get done.  I've got a commitment I have to fulfill and I know it is going to take every ounce of concentration and energy, and probably just about every waking moment, to get it done.

I think when this whole enterprise is finished, I'm really going to take a break.  Spend as much time outdoors as possible for a week or two.

Caused I'm feeling trapped like a rat.

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