Apologies for such an extensive absence,
but this Wednesday surely snuck up on me...
Well during such a hiatus I have not put much thought to the stressful undercurrents that accompany writing, and therefore have not overly succumbed to any insecurities in particular. However I have been wondering. While I am experiencing favourable productivity in the way of brainstorming and working beyond the line of flash fiction as aforementioned, will I ever be able to do so on such a phenomenal scale as required for a novel?
I am forever in awe of you all, every day finds a new success story with a post on self publishing or completing a final draft or scoring an agent. Yet I find that horizon to be so far in the distance I cannot imagine actually approaching it in any near future.
So promptly I open this thought for pondering before I rush off to more adventure; am I fooling myself with the possibility of a future in writing, or am I holding myself back?
ps: I promise to make it to other entries by next week but I really must run :)
ever the underachiever,