Wednesday, April 24, 2013

In other matters — things about the office — I can usually do what I set out to do and I can learn by experience, but when it comes to writing I’m a new-born baby every time — always come into it naked and shivery and without any bones. I never learn anything about it at all. I sometimes wonder whether one can possibly be meant to do the thing at which they are more blind and inept and blundering than at anything else in the world.
-- Willa Cather

and so I am. I thought I would have my act more together, but I don't. I wrote a post for today, but it's just be whining and I wanted to find links to include to validate myself, but I couldn't, so I am posting a quote about a writer talking about writing. I hate that, but it's three thirty and I have a therapy appointment in the morning and windows is trying to update my computer and I have ten billion links that I can't lose and I'm unsure about packing and moving and I'm having people over for dinner tomorrow and I'm not ready for that and I have a scarf I need to finish, too.

Time for bed.

No comments:

Post a Comment