I’m stuck, stuck in a vasty mire that seems to have no end. The scene I’ve been working on is working me over. I have no idea what I’m doing, what I’m trying to do, what I ought to be doing. If you hear thumping in the distance, that’s me banging my head on the desk.

This, too, shall pass. I’ve been here before. I know this mire. I’ve gotten out of it before. I’m not sure how — I vaguely recall a lightning bolt of inspiration and sudden unstuckness, but I’m not sure.

The only good news in all of this is that I got a glimmer of how the ending will look. That’s comforting, as I look out over a sea of stuckness.


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