Over the Hump and the Flu

This week I've been sick with some sort of evil monster flu that I contracted while I was in Grants Pass.  We have decided that an apt name might be: the Pants Shitter Flu.  The reason for this is that everyone we know who has had the flu has shit their pants.  It was quite traumatic.  Painful too, a lot of puking.  I seems to be over now, so that's all well and good.

Speaking of things that are over, I think I've finally climbed (or clambered?) over this mental block that was keeping me from writing on my novel.  Today I'll sit down and finish chapter six.  I've decided that I can't take it so seriously, which is honestly very hard for me.  I feel like, no matter how hard I try, I have all my hopes and dreams pinned to this project.  It is special to me, of course it is, but I can't let it take over and become this huge monster rampaging through my confidence and self-esteem.  The other thing that I need to remember is that writing is something I want to do.  Even if I don't win any awards or make a whole lot of money, it's just something that I want to do.  The best way to do it is to just do it.  I was thinking of the following quote before I sat down, so I looked it up.

“The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.” — Mary Heaton Vorse (1881-1966), American writer