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Writer's Log, October 24th: The Linear Trap | Elizabeth Percer
I spent most of this month in a holding period on my latest novel: wanting to write, unsure yet of what needed to be written. And while I know that books need to cook every now and then, I wasn't exactly able to back off gracefully. Instead, my lovely inner martinet showed up 'round the second day and started tapping her foot and looking at her watch. And she's not exactly a poster child for personal space. If it takes me more than a few days to find out where I'm going next, by the time I am ready to sit down and write, I'm liable to have the shakes from the loud mouth-breathing she's been doing in my ear. I'm guessing that if you're involved in any sort of life beyond your writing days, you've found yourself skirting the linear trap, too. Maybe you even tell yourself terrible stories about where you are in life/art/existence while you're there. Maybe your inner martinet rebroadcasts these stories to you on a megaphone. But she's there for a reason, too. Like your mother at her most