I am trying to clean my room today ... the piles on the floor... surrounding my bed. Piles are in other places but today I turned my focus to my bedroom and there I found a problem. I have been doing extremely well lately at accomplishing tasks... beginning, working through them and completing! What a new delight. But today I am tugging through the mud of paper goods. I see bits and pieces of my life... my thoughts like scribbles here and there. My mind is over active. Words keep pouring out and on the pages I find... typed beginnings of books, of articles, of journeys I have been compelled to begin... I notice a pattern of a lot of incompletions. My mind buzzes with new thoughts, ideas, impulses. While I start off running, rapidly getting done or said what I feel at that moment to be monumental, I observe life cuts in and "it" is lost. Darwin went to an island to write. So did John to write Revelation, the final book of the Bible. I have a writer's m...