Lately, I’ve become much more of a hermit than is really healthy, but the thing is, when I pull back from the blogverse and the real world, I can actually zoom through pages and pages of writing. It’s as if withdrawing from human society is the equivalent of an herbal acne treatment for my muse, clearing up the blemishes of self-doubt and self-censorship, and allowing the pores to breathe and the characters I create to speak to me.

So it’s not that I’ve got nothing to say, but that I forget to say it, and then I get distracted.

Today I shared with a trusted friend and source of inspiration what my goal is for the novel camp I’m attending in a couple months. I’m not sharing it here, because I need to bottle the energy for a while, but it has me thinking about the difference between a dream, a goal, and a plan.

I’m at a personal crossroads. I feel like I don’t have anything to blog about and that the energy spent here would be put to better use working on my fiction. How interesting is to say, “I wrote six pages today,” if I can’t share those six pages?