I’m not sure I have another book in me anymore.

This is probably me having a Discouraging Moment ^TM but I’m not feeling that obsession to write. I have three partial novels and one novella, all of which have stalled.

The latest document — I know what’s wrong with it but not how to fix it. I sit and think about how to introduce what it needs and my brain dissolves into mush. I feel like my brain cells are devoted to work and my future garden, the seedlings in the basement and the research proposals on the computer.

I might take some time this morning to talk with my husband and see what I come up with. Then again, I might grade papers. That’s what writing has been lately.