And then it happened. Through the miracle that is Twitter, I was led to a marvelous post by author Chuck Wendig...a little inspirational boost he dubbed "The Writer's Prayer." (Click the link for the full text.) Here is but an example of the wisdom contained therein....
"This book is not the boss of my shit."
"My hamstrings might snap like high-tension cables and take out one of my eyes. My back may bend and bow until my scoliosis allows me to pleasure myself with my mouth. My knee caps might shoot off, striking a Yeti in the eye which makes him really mad and so he comes over and tears both of my arms off and beats me about the head and neck with my own gore-spewing limbs. My mind may crumble under the assault, driven to the very precipice of sanity, staring down into the deepest yawning yawping abyss and as the Yeti howls and my synapses fire I will smell the scent of funeral flowers wafting up from that abyss and I will find it peaceful and comfortable and will realize how easy it would be to just pivot my hips just-so and go tumbling down into that satisfying darkness, the darkness of ease, the darkness of acquiescence, the milk-livered niddering darkness of sweet sweet cowardice."
"I am a writer, and I will finish the shit that I started."
Thank you, Chuck. Your words of wisdom and gift of laughter have provided me with a much needed kick in the ass. I will now finish the shit that I started.