Do you think this pretty creature doubts herself? Of course not. She is a deer. All she has to do is be a deer. She knows what deer do, and she does it. I am a writer. I know what writers do. Sometimes I just can't do it. Why? Because I am the worst writer in the world. Every word I put to page is garbage and I am a completely unworthy human being. Do you feel this way sometimes too? For the past few days I have been trying to shake a negativity that came upon me from I don't know where. I just know that it is hindering my ability to function in all areas of my life; sucking the joy out of me. This morning I forced myself to my desk and miserably made myself start the work of dealing with writerly business; email, neglected industry reading, research. Next thing I knew I was writing haiku and slowly starting to feel better. In conversation with my kind, smart, loving, man, earlier this week I realized that writing is not my passion, it is part of my life process. If I don't do it, I am not me. So even if every word I put to page is garbage, I still need to do it. To let it out to have its own life so I can live mine.