Here I am again with no real outline and just a character and I am afraid that there won’t be a way forward. Though, there always is. That is the deepest joy of this weekend for me. Just letting the words flow out onto the page. Side-stepping, faking out, freaking body-slamming, my inner-critic into submission. It’s exhilarating!
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explorations in creativity
I wish I was born a hundred years ago.