Some days are just blank.

Some days I don’t know what to write. I just draw a blank. I know a writer must write if he/she wants to call themselves  a writer. So this day ,a blankish day in the dead of winter here in the ‘peg’I feel that my 64 year-old body wants to just chill ,take it easy. My real need is for that old muse to show up and kick my butt so as I can work on the latest story I started in September. I have one chapter done. Normally, I would be doing my writing everyday until my book was complete. Then I would spend time editing and a re-write here and there.  Oh well I know that I will complete that book yet. If I quit procrastinating.

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