It’s been almost two months since my last blog post.

I wish that I could tell you that my absence was the result of an especially productive burst of writing but sadly nothing could be further from the truth. It fells like I’ve barely written anything this year and I can barely tell you where any of the time that ideally should have been spent writing went.

Part of that (probably the largest part) is due to my own mental health plus doubts about whatever abilities, if any, I might have as a writer. Part of it will be due to my day job, which contrary to what might have been expected, has continued to be as hectic (if not more so) than any time I’ve see it in the ten years I’ve been there. And, of course, there’s the general shit-show 2020 has been.

So, where to go from here?

I’m reluctant to make any hard goals for the year. I know that on one hand, it would give me something to work towards but I also think it’s much more likely to be setting myself up for failure. Instead, I think I need to limit what expectations I put on myself and just concentrate on doing things just for the enjoyment of them.

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