I've been in a fog since last weekend when my father passed away. When I haven't been asleep (mostly due to meds needed to control panic and flashbacks) I've been just... breathing.
Sometimes that's all you can do.
But that's not all I want to do. That's not all Dad would want me to do, and I know that.
I also know my Dad would be proud of me for attempting this:
I am doing this for myself this year and no one else. In other words, I am not writing with a view to publication (see my post from last summer about my retirement from publishing if you're interested. Link here.) I am writing a book likely no one else will ever see.
So I may be quiet here in November, but it's because hopefully, I will be doing what I should be doing anyway... writing.
For the love of it, for the sake of my sanity, and because it is in me to do it. Even, or maybe especially, when I don't feel like I can.
Wish me luck...