Lately, I have been discouraged by my lack of productivity concerning my writing. I expressed this to a friend and she looked at me, astonished. She was quick to take me, Scrooge-style, back over my life for the past year and a half, pointing out all of the major revelations I have dealt with in a short period of time. Most people would be hard pressed to tackle these one at a time, she said. She was right.
This was exactly what I needed to hear. With my enthusiasm bolstered, I hurried home, anxious to hit the keyboard. My jeep bounced cheerily along an expanse bridge while I contemplated characters and drama. Tires drummed out each connecting section, jolting me in my seat. I still had one crucial hindrance. My computer was in the shop and wouldn't be back for another one to two weeks. My shoulders sagged under the burden of another obstacle.
I had a decision to make. Let another hindrance postpone my writing or take the beast on full steam. I raised my fist, Scarlett O'Hara style, and vowed to let this be the last excuse to prevent my finishing the book.