New year. Same work as the old year. And the same me to do it. Goals are useful, to a point. But in the crux lies the same essential fact: Doing the work is the only way to advance in the direction of the dream.
Over the last several years I've been blessed with many essential lessons, though I've been slow at times to see them for what they are. One of the gifts given (Thanks, Caleb!) is the idea that great writing is designed.
So for me, this is what I must work at more carefully and relentlessly - designing my work so that the actual writing produced will reflect this understanding.
The ever-present ghost of doubt whispers the ever-constant lie: Not good enough. I try to push the miasma away, shouting "stop" in the Octagon of my head.
Beyond what the eye can see, the heart staggers up the path it has not known. Blind. Seeing.
Resolved: To keep resolving.
Great post! I wouldn't say your head is shaped like an octagon, though . . .
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