There’s something I have to get off my chest. I have a confession to make.
The last couple of days I’ve let procrastination stop me.
I’d sit down to write only to clear the page.
I’d start over again only to walk away from the computer screen.
I’d begin to read another section of a good book only to close the book and sit it aside.
Why was I doing this?
At first I thought it was writer’s block. Ideas were few and far between. The words didn’t seem to flow.
My next thoughts were that I wasn’t feeling well. That’s the reason I didn’t want to write or read or do much of anything else.
But that answer didn’t feel right. I knew it wasn’t the truth.
The truth? I was procrastinating.