The problem with doing “morning pages” is that sooner or later you´ll say the truth. Writing every day, it´s just too hard not to. For instance, I´m starting to touch on a terrifying anger, though many questions remain unanswered: at who, why, what could possibly be done about it now? I´m an emotional archeologist carefully dusting psychological debris away from an ancient relic. This, I sense, could be an important once-in-a-lifetype, career-making find. Very exciting stuff. The kind of find that changes everything we´ve thought about who this person really is.
I wonder if anybody ever hurts themselves typing. Like you might hurt your hand punching someone in the face?