It's so telling to me that I have the desire to write and not the discipline.
So many distinct moments this week have dictated that I actually sit and write something down, but usually this happens while I am a) at work and frantic or b) playing Legos on the floor with A. My interesting predicament at present is not getting into the mode of writing again as I expected, but rather, creating an environment in my life where I make the time.

I actually take this as some progress, as it's been awhile since my desire was even there. I'm completely excited about National Novel Writing Month, and reading everything I can get my hands on to steep my brain in words. Currently reading these 3 simultaneously:
Our Band could be your Life,Killing Yourself to Live, and Girl.


All are totally worth my time (and yours), and I'm enjoying this novel idea called pleasure reading to no end!