The grades are in the system–and aside from the usual grade complaints–the Fall semester is in the books. So now, I have no excuse to not write. Except that I just can’t get my rear moving. What the hell is wrong with me? My focus for the last year and a half has been working on this novel and getting it right. And now when I have some solid ideas about how to do that, I feel paralyzed to do it. Is it the fear of, once again, getting not quite there and having to start over once again? Or is it the fear that maybe I do have the solutions, and once I fix it, then I’ll have to actually begin the painful process of trying to get it published? That maybe there is safety in the drafting process. It’s a cocoon of work protecting you from the harsh reality of rejection. You can still say you’re a writer because you are WRITING. But when you’re done writing, and you’re not-yet published, well what are you then? Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of having to find out.