When I began this new journey back in January, I never dreamed it would continue to grow.  Now it’s October. I have one book self-published on Amazon. I have less than ten chapters left of the first draft for the sequel. I’ve begun two other novels.

I’m trying to figure out if this all determination to create the life I want feeding my motivation to finish what I start, or have I lost my mind to the point the voices have taken control of my mind. I am their meat puppet providing the means to share their stories… No, that’s not right. I can see parts of myself in the characters. I sense metaphors revealing scraps of my life that I’m still trying to accept.

I guess writing has become another form of meditation where I let my thoughts flow with only myself to find. I’m in the labyrinth stumbling through the dark searching for the goal, for the final destination. So I may stumble. I might fall a few times but there is an end. I’ll never give up until I get there.

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