On writing...

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I start. I stop. I stare at the semi-blank computer screen and think for ten minutes straight. I read and re-read what I've written. I read it out loud. One sentence isn't perfect. I know I can do better, so I spent the next 20 minutes finding the words trapped inside my head. I listen to music constantly for inspiration. I endlessly jot down obvious notes and random thoughts in my writing journal.

Welcome to the last few days of my life. And the crazy part? Tonight as I was working, I realized I'm nowhere even CLOSE to actually writing anything real yet. I'm still working out characters, relationships, story lines...I know a lot, but it's a lot of peripheral details that don't lead anywhere. Once I have all those worked out, then this story that's been swirling around my head for years will finally have the chance to get out.

But even though there's so much work to be done, I cannot wait for it. I already desperately want to fade away into this world I'm creating inside my head and on journal pages. It's reality amplified - exactly as it should be.

Permission to dream

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Dear M,

You're scared. And I get that. It's terrifying being on the verge of doing something you've dreamed about for years not knowing if you'll make it through; if you'll find the right words; if anyone will even care when it's all said and done.

So do something for me. Make a list of all those doubts. Put them down on paper. Let ink bleed from pen like blood gushing from a vein. Get it all out of your system and once it's out, let those doubts stay on that piece of paper because you don't need them. Rip it up. Burn it. Tuck it away in a secret spot.

Then, give yourself permission to dream.