i'm staring at the screen, paralyzed by the glare in front of me. ian is in the kitchen eating with devon. our suite is clean, so i can't distract myself with that. the only thing left looming ahead of me are these words that need to somehow get themselves onto the page.
i was imagining myself feeling really artsy, maybe a little emo, sitting at our metal top table, being an author. listening to the nick drake pandora station. i even got a big sweater and leggings that i dreamt to be my writing outfit, all snuggled up on a wicker chair, sipping tea and furiously spewing out words.
instead, i'm wearing ian's sweatshirt because i was too lazy to find anything else, my brain has nothing in it but cravings for meadows ice cream, and my body wants to slump into a warm down comforter for the night.
this is so not glamorous.
being an author, as we use that term loosely, is maybe not how i had pictured it to be.
but everything is work, and that's what will make this project so rewarding. i'm surely learning obedience and discipline. this book will be nothing short of a miracle once it's completed.
"I can do all things through him who strengthens me." Philippians 4:13
thank you, always