I had a couple of free hours yesterday and decided to finish an essay I started months ago. Remarkably, it has nothing to do with knitting, and therein may lie the problem, since all I can think about are sweaters, this being a current obsession:
From the Rowan Classic Coast Collection
But I was in the mood to write, or at least thought I was, though revisiting the essay distressed me somewhat. I noodled with the diction, unsure I was striking the right tone. I revised clunky phrases; an English teacher I had long ago noted awkward sentences by writing “awk” beside them in red. There was a lot of “awk.” Ultimately, I had to admit that I didn’t know where I was going. Really, dear, what is your point?
So I lay down. Please tell me you do this: Shut your eyes so as to conjure different brain waves or at the very least, catch a few Zs? It works. And in this case, along with stealing a nice nappy, I realized where the piece needed to go. Problem is, my “point” just ain’t that deep.
Kinda put the whole day into a tailspin.