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Every 33 Words (cont'd)
But sometimes the writing does not go so well.  This was the case for me last month, when the pencil seemed more akin to a 50 lb. sledgehammer:  hard to pick up, easy to put down.  I never really got into the flow of words, that place where all else can fall away and I am completely absorbed.  Instead, it was a constant battle.  On the one side, the writing; on the other, everything else in the world.  And the world was winning with its usual one-two punch:  fear and distraction.

Finally, I made a deal with myself.  I made a mark on a post-it note every time I felt an overwhelming urge to get up and do something other than writing—make a cup of tea, check my email, clip my toenails—and promised myself that, after ten marks, I could get up and do something else for a while.

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