A Writer in the Village V

I laid in bed long into the morning struggling to find inspiration and motivation to write.  Writing a blog seems easy with entering a couple of paragraphs a day or every other day but putting that whole idea, my whole life, into a few chapters to sum it up seems impossible.  Perhaps the writing class will help me achieve the conciseness I need but that doesn't happen for another six weeks.  I watched the ceiling fan spin around and slowly got hypnotized until I reached a relaxed state.  I only want to write when I enjoy it and feel it, when it is not forced or when it becomes a burden rather than a passion.  There's no time limit for my book and I don't want to start to feel the pressure of one when it's unnecessary.  I could feel the anxieties float away as I was drifting back off to sleep...I can write for no other reason than absolute love and passion...I don't need another job...