Nothing to report on this end, I’m afraid. Same old, same old. Drowning in house work, weekend plans, personal edits/rewrites, edits for my publisher, and now rewrites for a story I really really want to make work and simply ISN’T.
The thought of doing these things is completely suffocating. I want so badly to make it all work but I feel inept. It’s pretty frustrating. I know I’m not the only one that have felt this way. Every author suffers from self-doubt at some point or another. The thought that maybe you can’t do this. But then I get angry. The thought that I can’t makes me want to do it more. To prove to myself that I can. Oh ego, why must you torment me thus?
But at least it’s Friday. Maybe I can take a moment to breathe and re-evaluate. And maybe, come Monday, I’ll have completely positive news. 
You never know. Weirder things have happened.
