I write because I have to.
I write because I have to.
Not because I have a million amazing thoughts racing around my head that must be written down, or that I have ideas nobody has ever heard, words worth repeating, insights, perspectives or lessons nobody else has learned.
I don’t write because I’m clever, have a way with words or because people care. Nobody’s life depends on it, it doesn't save lives and nor may it change lives.
I have no delusions of grandeur. My life is no more full of things worth writing about than yours. You and I are the same. We do stuff and go to bed.
I write because I must. It opens me up, and slows me down. It hands me a shovel and says – here dig. Dig around and see what’s already there, waiting patiently to be found. Writing opens my eyes, and opens my heart.
Writing are my glasses and my pacemaker.
Perhaps you must dance, take photos of bugs, sing quietly to yourself, or cook meals for those you love.
It takes courage to quieten the noise, to stop the searching.
For what if there is nothing there? I’ll do just about anything to avoid staring at an empty document, an empty me.
For when we’re all courageous enough to pick up our shovels and find those pieces inside of us, we are all the better for it.
Not because I have a million amazing thoughts racing around my head that must be written down, or that I have ideas nobody has ever heard, words worth repeating, insights, perspectives or lessons nobody else has learned.
I don’t write because I’m clever, have a way with words or because people care. Nobody’s life depends on it, it doesn't save lives and nor may it change lives.
I have no delusions of grandeur. My life is no more full of things worth writing about than yours. You and I are the same. We do stuff and go to bed.
I write because I must. It opens me up, and slows me down. It hands me a shovel and says – here dig. Dig around and see what’s already there, waiting patiently to be found. Writing opens my eyes, and opens my heart.
Writing are my glasses and my pacemaker.
Perhaps you must dance, take photos of bugs, sing quietly to yourself, or cook meals for those you love.
It takes courage to quieten the noise, to stop the searching.
For what if there is nothing there? I’ll do just about anything to avoid staring at an empty document, an empty me.
For when we’re all courageous enough to pick up our shovels and find those pieces inside of us, we are all the better for it.
What you find doesn't have to be perfect, or even good, it just has to be yours, as mine just has to be mine.
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