A couple of days ago I began writing a blog that was intended to explain how horribly donald trump has impacted my mental health. He really has. I have a similar conversation with friends, acquaintances and co-workers a few times a week about how he has damaged our sense of security and mental stability.
But, my blog is turning into ruminating about personality disorders and how they cannot be cured and despite knowing trump has one, having a psychology BA and over two years experience as a volunteer suicide and crisis counselor, I cannot find it in myself to forgive him. Ted Bundy had a personality disorder (he was a psychopath) and I can’t forgive him either. And he’s dead.
This is the way of the creative process: the creator wants to go one place but, soon finds out the real driver is the creation. My novel and children’s book are doing the same thing.
I have to be at work at 8 am tomorrow and it’s going on 11 pm so, I need to begin winding down. Yet again, another interruption by something I simply do not want to do much longer.
I just can’t wait till writing pays my bills.