Three days until the writing conference and still no writing. I have forgotten how to use that side of the brain, having worked with paint brush and the visual for so long. It is proving difficult to turn that side of myself back on. Re-wire. Life is easier painting the faces of far away places. I'm a sentimental writer grown hard towards sentimentality. I just want the stuff underneath-- the guts. The real. Reluctant to enter the insides of what words I have not yet found.