Scorpio Setting

If I could only finish one of the projects on the literary stove right now, it would be this short novel about the last day in the life of an old man. At the moment, it feels like climbing a large mountain but I can devote the summer to it and what I need to do in Spring is get up to speed, in a good rhythm with it. The story is damn clear in my head, I'm often doing dialogue in my head, it's clear to me -- but it's harder than ever to sit down and put the words down. An exhausting task, perhaps in part psychological since it's such a personal story. Not autobiographically personal -- philosophically personal is a better way to put it. And maybe there's a sense of it being the last, large ambitious project left in me. Well, apart from a feature -- but will I even have energy to do one down the road? I feel like my soul has sprung a leak.