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?


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