Words are great. But lately, I’ve been keeping my distance.
Opening Google Docs to check up on my novel is like trudging through a bog. Slogging through a marsh. Marching through a quagmire. I get caught up in all the little things. I get stuck in a rut.
But then I read a good poem, or see a post about writing workshops, or experience a very small and compact moment. It whets my wordiness, sharpens my hunger to make something. Not to be afraid to slog through the heavy task of stringing words so they feel light, easy.
I’m hoping the next couple weeks will be full of writing. It takes time to trudge through a manuscript, which I’ve been learning for years. But it will never get written unless I write it. Trudge on.