My writing may never change the world or receive great accolades. I am not an activist, philosopher or a scientist. I don’t even dare to dream of aspiring to the elevated creative genius status enjoyed by J. K. Rowling, Margaret Atwood and Zadie Smith, but I do still dream and I do have stories to tell.
For once in my haphazard life, I am focused. I am on a mission to harvest the characters and plots that have been ricocheting around in my brain for too long. I am working on discipline but, for now, it eludes me. Every morning discipline jumps into my head, telling me I should structure my day, but I quickly dismiss it and just let rip. So much to say, so little time.
I’ve been pussyfooting around this passion of mine for too long and now I feel like I am writing for my life.
“Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book, or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now.”