I’ve been doing some thinking the last few weeks. I know, it’s a dangerous pastime for me. Perhaps the reason is the cold weather and my recent bout with a virus that kept me indoors. Maybe it’s a natural fallout to New Years and all those resolutions people make. Whatever the cause, the result is the same: I realize I’m feeling adrift.

Writing is a solitary activity, and for those who immerse themselves in this world, being surrounded only by those who don’t creates challenges. We all need a sounding board for ideas, problems, and commisseration. I had hoped to start a new tradition in January, but the weather got in the way. Now, it may be several weeks until I can try again. And I’m not sure my writer’s soul can wait that long.

If I don’t wait, I’m facing two options. I can try to go back. Or I can try to move forward. Going back requires facing demons I’m not sure I’m ready to confront. Moving forward will eat up time, funds, and energy I’m not sure I can expend.

And so, currently, I stagnate: too afraid to go backward, too unsure of myself to move forward. Thus, my writing stagnates. It’s a vicious cycle. What would you do? Who fills your well when you’re running dry? How brave are you? Are you the patient sort who can wait to follow Plan A? Or can you find the courage to institute Plan B? Or would you strike out on your own and make Plan C a reality?