Well, I'm back to it now. During the time away from my writing, I questioned myself constantly about my capability of completing this project. The longer away, the more I missed it and the more I wondered if it was just too great a feat for me to accomplish. I doubted myself and my writing, more often than I acknowledged, even to myself.
And now, here I sit, staring it all in the face and anxious to put that intimidating pen to paper. And I feel...good. I feel more ready than I did even before I decided to take the break. I don't know if I forgot I loved it so much as I let my love of it scare me off a bit. I've always felt that if I can't be great, if I can't produce something that truly relfects my care and dedication to the craft and evoke something real with my words, then I don't want to ruin this thing that I love. I don't want it to be mediocre and I, myself don't want to be ordinary.
However, today, in this moment, I don't give a damn. I just want to do what I love, even if I privately butcher the english language. For now, I will write. What? I'm not sure yet. Maybe something for the book, maybe part of another project, maybe a ten pages on whatever pops into my scattered little brain as it wanders-- I will simply write today and it's a beautiful thing.