I desperately wanted to share this post before I left the country (I like how that sounds; maybe I fled! I sound so exotic and mysterious!), but I couldn’t, for reasons which will soon become clear.
But first, let me remind you what I do for a living. I write. I write for my blogs, and for other people’s and company’s blogs, and I do copywriting, and sometimes I write for magazines, and sometimes I do articles for various other outlets, and my point, here, is not to brag or anything, but just to say: I am a writer, I write for a living, and I do lots of different kinds of writing just about every day. Also—okay, maybe this is a brag—I happen to think I’m pretty darn good at what I do, most of the time.
I also, it should be noted, don’t believe in writer’s block. (I can always write something, it just may not be very good.) And yet, a few weeks ago, I took on what may well have been the hardest assignment of my career. And I really, really struggled with it.
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