I confess I am late. How quickly a year/month/week/day goes by. To make up for it, I posted the photo of the storybook mushrooms I found today with friends. They honestly looked fake on the lawn of the antique shop, or what is the chocolate shop, I don't remember.
But since I'm late, I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer...
to the confessional--
I confess I won't be here next week as I'll be off to a magical place to write. I do not know if they have storybook mushrooms, but I will be looking for them.
I confess I have not been writing much this fall. Wait, I've confessed this before. I used to be someone who believed a writer must write every day, now I don't believe that, except that I do. I do believe it's important to write every day and I've been disappointed with myself for not. But I know that no one can stand behind me and hold up my pen but me. So, this is just a bad habit I've encountered recently/since May, I am the one who is accountable for how I spend my time.
I confess that since I've known I'll be having this upcoming writing week, I've allowed myself to neglect my writing because I know I have this time set aside for me. That kind of annoys me about myself, but I also know that sometimes when I don't allow myself to write, I write even more. We'll see what happens once I get there.
I confess I'll tell you more when I return.
I confess that today was such a beautiful sunny day that a friend and I went mountain biking! It was so cold -about 40 degrees, but so much fun. I should have worn gloves though. In trying to pull my sleeves over my fingers, I twisted my handlebars and crashed. Did I mention it was muddy? Oh yeah.
My bike is fine and clean though. And so am I now.
We were going to go again tomorrow, but I think I'll suggest a hike. My lungs are not at full capacity and they kind ache after today's ride. Does it sound as if I'm neglecting my writing? I kind of am. But I'm kind of not.
I confess there are many different ways to be a writer, but I like my writing life better when I am writing every day. That will be my New Year's Resolution.
I confess I sound a little wishy-washy in this post. Maybe that's the mud running off my bike as I cleaned it. Maybe it's the mud I washed off my hands, arms, side, leg and shoes. Maybe I'm more washy than wishy.
I confess I must leave to do the chores I neglected all day. Writing is not a chore, so it will not be done tonight. Laundry will. Lots and lots of laundry. Washy-washy. I guess I was made for this.
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