Today or yesterday or sometime when I was sleeping I oozed into a realization:
I'm going about this project all wrong.
This doesn't have to be hard. I'm the one making it hard. I'm the one making it goddamn impossible by creating obstacles like not knowing where to start or how to tell my story. I have hundreds of stories, each one a triumph, each one a journey in its own right. Why am I forcing myself to write outlines and build a narrative arc? It's the exact opposite of my personality, of who I am. And I don't need to listen to trending memoirs to see how they do it. I'm no good at trending. Come on. I'm the fucking lady walking her dog and talking to the crow on her head.
Seriously, me, wtf. Writing is art, not engineering. Just write. Nobody's paying you yet. Who knows if anyone will pay you ever. Just write. Fucking write because you love to and you need it to live.
Don't let fear be your biggest obstacle. Everything will fall into place.
Just create.
I noticed my profile was running low on crows. A temporary shortage of photos occurred due to the shortage of crow-related experiences enjoyed without the visual and emotional obstruction of a camera lens. I do not apologize for any inconvenience.
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