Of writing

I was talking to Phisto last night and told her about my new Vox blog.  In her words, "You have another blog??"  Smirk.  Yep.  I don't know if it's an obsession or an addiction.  Then she asked, "So which one is going to be your primary blog?"  So far I have been posting in both equally.  I don't know this Vox blog seems to have a different tone to than Dubh Croi.  And being Me, I can talk for ages about absolute crap that I think people actually want to read/hear. 

And perhaps, just maybe if I write enough I can train my writing brain back into the well oiled machine it was back in the "day."  Well that's what I tell myself.  So far I've been doing this since before "Blogger" and "blogs"--and my brain still is mired in writers block.  I really can't blame the kids.  I was going down hill before their eggs matured.  I think it all goes back to An Sceal(r) and the wreck it turned me into.  My real phobia: What I write might just come true.

See that concept is what I should turn into a book for NaNoWriMo -- but it's been done before.  It's a common enough plot for a story and it does hit too close to home. 

2006 was also a year of mourning myself and trying to find myself.  Realising I lost myself a bit while busy raising children--and I miss that person.  I miss the uber-creative Birdwell.  The gal that had such big plans.  I want to find her again and introduce her to my new life.