And then eventually some other thing inside of me grabs a rope or a handle or something and tugs the rest of me forward towards the page and makes me look at it and start to get inside and deal with whatever it is that's making me afraid.
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And then I start to remember what it feels like to be inside this particular piece or page or paragraph or sentence or series of words, and it's a little less scary and a little less daunting and even though I go back and forth between the less scary places for a bit longer,
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eventually I allow myself to live on the page. With my whole, holed and holy self. And it's a little less scary. A little less raw. And I remember that this is my job. The job that found me. That I signed up for and agreed to when I was a very little kid. So I can't really run.
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Ah yes...deadlines are necessary. And ultimately, helpful. Otherwise, writing rarely gets to the top of the To Do list.
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1,000 percent!!!
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