The heartbreaking vibrations that come from Eddie Vedder singing are keeping me company this morning. Of course, no morning can truly start without the brown warmth of my coffee mug. Never matters how hyper-focused I get on my work, my brain never hushes. Though I’m creating beautiful covers for possible future works, I still find myself asking questions. It’s the jitters of being in the field that I’m in.
“What happened?”, “Did I really get this far off course?”, and “Will anyone still be interested in the things I have to say still?”. I’m sure I’m not alone in these types of thoughts. I’m surely not the first to get sidetracked by life. Nor will I be the last. But how many of my fellow creatives will have given up? I’m too stubborn and I’m not sure which of my parents to blame for it. My go-to has always been my father, but my mother was a fair bit stubborn too.
I’m not throwing the towel in, at least not yet. Strange Bedfellows is in the hands of a talented editor that I trust. I’ve been working on several writing projects. That damnable memoir feels as if it’s taking too long. Nonetheless, progress is made even if Mr. Nobeans tries very hard to distract me.
