It’s especially hard …

to write today. I don’t know why. I’ve been sitting here at my desktop computer and doing everything but writing. Not that I’ve been wasting time. I paid a bill and created some Facebook posts, tasks that I was happy to check off my list. But now, it’s time to turn to my manuscripts—sigh—and I just don’t want to.

Late last night, or was it early this morning—my God, I don’t even remember anymore—I worked with ChatGPT to develop three-quarters of a plot that finally matches this title I’ve been in love with for years: Malice, My Old Friend. If only I live long enough to write the story. I love it. I have so many stories in my head. So many. And yet, so little energy to actually sit and write them.

As someone (Dorothy L. Parker, perhaps?) once said, “I love having written, but I hate having to write.”