I’ve been struggling with writing lately. I’ve been super busy, and rather than carving out time to myself at the end of the day to write – either to do work on my novel or just to dump my brain. I’ve been self-soothing by acting like a goddamn soccer mom, cleaning and organizing my apartment. Part of it is simple habit – I stopped writing when it came time to get ready to move, then I moved and I’ve been trying to get the apartment set up and I’m the MoH in BB’s sister’s wedding this weekend so I’ve spent a good chunk of time working on things for that – once you get out of the habit of writing every day, it’s hard to get back into it. If you’re not writing, it’s much easier to second-guess every word you type and start feeling like it’s not work the ink it’s written with (or whatever the digital equipment is – pixels, I guess?) and simply give up rather than risk embarrassing yourself. The law of inertia certainly applies – the more I write, the more I want to write and the easier I find it to write; the longer I go between writing sessions the harder I find to get started again. Now that I’m settled into my apartment and the wedding madness is nearly over, I’m hoping I can get back into writing, and maybe by admitting my insecurity is a good way to jump back in.