Malaise, wallowing in the swamplands, acedia (my new word for the week), writer’s block. Call it what you will–I’ve been bogged down. Started the cure this morning at my favorite coffee shop with some of my drugs of choice–20 ounce iced latte, new pens, a blank page. I would have added a Beethoven symphony at high volume, but forgot my earphones, and my presence in public forced me into quiet. The fog may be lifting. It looks like the Altitude Sickness story is coming home to me, or will be soon. It is Big Magic, as Elizabeth Gilbert says. I just have to keep believing in the Big Magic that has sent this story to me and compelled me to tell it.