It’s been well over a year since I started writing my book. I’ve taken months off when the act of putting my memories down became too much of an emotional burden. I’ve taken months off when it wasn’t a priority because I was sick, or busy or felt like I wasn’t an expert in the field.
I’ve come back and picked it up once or twice, but always got side tracked. I had plenty of people excited when I got excited. But in the normal, day to day acts, writing is a lonely and occasionally will-sapping task.