The omnipresent cliche: that the hardest part of any endeavor is getting started. So the engine is sputtering impotently.
I wrote this post a little more than a year ago. Today it sees the scathing light of the interwebs after ages of inactivity.
They say practice becomes perfect; there is nothing I hate more than having to dig in and scrabble for something I insolently consider as a birthright: effortless writing.
Nothing derails getting to the finished product quite like aiming for absolute perfection. No greater paralysis of effort than that brought about by never being good enough when nothing has been put to paper.
So, my unseen, uncaring muses, throw me a literary bone, will you? It’s a desert of inspiration out here.