Sunday, June 08, 2008


Writing is a wonderful creative release. And it is excruciating work.

For the first time in a couple of months, today I spent a little time on my project (my book, my treatise, my trash can liner, whatever it ends up becoming). I've got about 50 pages of raw something saved on my computer.

It's tough because:
  • every sentence I write I need to write several sentences trying to explain what I mean in case somebody reads it with a different understanding than I intended;
  • it takes so long to get it all written down (especially when the demands of life keep me away from it for long periods of time) that I fear it will no longer be timely or important by the time I get it done. Or, worst yet;
  • I won't even be in the same place by the time it's done (nothing worse that hating your own book the first time you read it); and
  • I write pages and pages of persuasive and technical legal briefs as part of my job, which takes away some of the passion for weekend writing.

Still, I enjoy writing it, and I'm just proud enough to think it will make a valuable contribution to the world if anybody ever bothers to read it.


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