Blah.

I’ve made a new goal: 10 pages a day. 10 pages times the days in a month should get me a book. Sounds easy right?

Well, the first 10 pages sent me into a roller coaster. I cried, laughed, got angry, questioned myself and then ended up passing out at 6 p.m.

So, it’s tough, but without challenge there is no adventure. I think the first 10 pages are good. I just hope this novel doesn’t end up like a lifetime movie.

And if it does, I blame my parents for working day and night and allowing the television to raise me, ha!

I’m also cutting contact with the world. Which isn’t new to me. I’m sure, besides MK, no one will care to check up. But all I need is one person — and this one person, just so… happens to understand me.

I was going to complain about feeling lonely — but that’s so good for my writing — so I can’t complain.

I also haven’t left the house (besides going to the gym and checking the mail) for the past 3 days.

Does one call that introvert-ism? Or should I seek therapy? I mean it’s too cold outside. Plus, you can stay in the house 3 days in a row, if you’re a globe trotter!

It’s almost 7:00 a.m., I have a few things to do today and then I’m headed off to Sagaponack.

My only concern is that I’ll be too happy to write. Then again, with my daily flashbacks, I don’t know if that’s the case.

And that’s the interesting thing about yesterday. I began to write each time I had a flash back. If you don’t call that turning pain into art…

I had moments of feeling considerable amount of guilt – my body went into a trance when I began writing about this feeling. I just hope the reader will resonate. If not, it was therapeutic.

Yay to PTSD!

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