I sometimes have similar feelings about my own journal/life. I look at my journal, and I think, Does anyone but me honestly care about my role-playing my own characters in my head? Then why do I write about it so much? I look at journals like sistermagpie's and wish I could write things which were as worth reading about as hers. My journal and my thoughts seem full of nothing but mundane, daily trivialities. I feel as if I lack commitment.

I'm not working toward any book right now. In the past, that would have made me feel ashamed; right now, I'm okay with it--which mildly alarms me. I wonder what happened to the woman who wanted to be a fantasy novelist? Where did she go?

I don't know if this is just some sort of natural phase that people go through, or if it's simply that I have lost my ambitions. And I don't know why I am not more bothered by it.

I hope we both figure out some answers soon. Best of luck with it, Peg.

Chantal