I’m a starter. Always have been. The initial flood of excitement, the rush of ideas? I thrive on it. Execution is a completely different beast.

What this means for writing down my silly little stories is that I can come up with God-tier concepts at the drop of a hat, and struggle like a motherfucker to execute them. It’s the most annoying aspect of how I function.

When it comes to plotting, this looks like a killer first act, outlined to the brink of overdoing it but stopping just short, a satisfying and meaningful ending, and… “hijinks ensue” as the middle 2/3.

All of which is to say, I’m struggling to crawl across the last 2,500 words of a project that should have been done days ago, simultaneously cursing the day job that makes sure I have a patio to write on and a drink to sip on while I write and electricity to keep the computer I write on running and cursing the way a certain nonprofit has a chokehold on people’s idea of productivity in the writing space.

But the important thing is that while I may be crawling, I haven’t stopped. It won’t be over if you don’t stop. One step, one stitch, one word, one tick tick tick of the cosmic spiral at a time, we move forward.

All my love,

BH ❤