New year, oh dear.
January 2nd 2025. Is this one of those promises I'll make to myself only to break within three weeks? 'Write a 500-word daily account of what goes on in my head'. Part of me is up for it, but the internal saboteur in me constantly says, "It won't last", the devil inside that stops us from doing what we enjoy, that nagging voice that says 'you're too old' and 'Who cares? ' 'Waste of time ' on and on until we see a reason to throw the towel in the ring and stop. Listen, I like writing; whether it's good or bad is neither here nor there; it's something I enjoy doing; it's not like I'm selling it or have any misconceptions about me writing books; no, it's just one of those things that make my day, so screw you, internal critic, find another person to demotivate and leave me alone. The last three weeks have been strange, I mean really muddled and confusing , I had a cold, which meant I spent more time indoors ...