My muse has flown the coop.

Lately I have read too many excellently written books.  Is that possible, you may ask?

It is when you are a writer and think, “I can’t write as well as that.”

I want to write as well as that.  But I never will.  I love (or used to love) writing, but I love so many other things, too.  Like traveling, hiking, reading (yikes), eating (double yikes), movies, ….  You get the picture.  Plus big changes or going on in my life at present.

Mainly, though, it’s the fear I am not good enough.  I write a paragraph and think, “yuck.”  Rhymes with “cluck.” 

This is part of a writer’s journey.  I seem to have fallen off the path for the moment.