So on Ash Wednesday I went to church. Got ashed on the forehead. I hadn’t been to church for quite some time. Call it lingering faith…or call it research for a chapter of my book, but it was exactly a month, to the day, of the deadline for the rough draft of my story about the ash angel. Seamed like the thing to do.
I’ve gone from excitement over the project, to sluggish apathy, to terror of the thing. Now, after doing some late night work on it…I’m in one of those ego growing moods where you feel like you can do it, or anything, do it better than anyone else. But that’s probably ok, I think I need to have a big ego to get this monster done.
There are two ways to not appear egotistical. One is to shrink it down, make it manageable and small. The other way is to grow it so huge, so gargantuan, that it becomes imperceptible.
I figure I can always shrink it back down with some self depreciating humor.