Write it down: I'm a writer, damn it!

I consider myself a writer/researcher/thinker first. My "real" job is writing, though not creative, and my "second" job is writing, though not profitable. It's actually quite a conundrom.

So I AM a writer. You can question how good of one, but you can't question that I am.

That said, why aren't I writing more? Partly its because I'm in that part of a book where I become frozen. I can usually "see" 15-20 parts of my book. That's the case with "The Needles On Pinetree Ave."

Now that I'm past those charted waters however, the writing becomes, not harder exactly, but...

And that's the crux of the problem. I don't know why it is whatever it is now. I guess this last half or so requires deeper mining, the material is more obscured. That's part of it.

I think some of it is that I'm hurtling along at a snail's pace towards the fini. Ending the story, wraping everything into one package is tough. I can write; I can edit. I'm paid farely nicely for doing those things. I can tell stories. My wife ignores them all the time.

What I don't do is end stories.