Haven’t been talking about writing much lately. That doesn’t mean I’m not doing it–I am writing, every day. The book in progress, which is still in the stages where I can’t talk about it yet, and essays and lots of emails to friends and family.
Which is what writing is all about. Showing up, opening up, letting it flow. So often, we can dramatize the whole thing to make ourselves the center of this wild, tossing ocean, and instead, we can just go to the computer and put our hands on the keys, or open a notebook and uncap a good pen, and start writing. Journals count. Blogs count. A good letter (even email, as long as it is a letter, not a note) counts. Pages you might use someday in some unyet discovered something count.
Writing is what keeps me sane. It’s both physical and mental. Grounding and inspiring. Easy and hard. Do you make writing hard for yourself? Is there some little something you could to do give yourself permission to let it flow?