Writing has been a serious exercise in discipline for me over the last few years. And, along the way, the amount of discovery experienced has not quite matched the heap of questions that are encountered.

I still don’t know what the best time of day is to write. I thought it was first thing in the morning, but some of my best writing is accomplished in the afternoon or evening. Is there a day that springs forth more imagination or output? A season? The weather? You see where I’m headed.

There are times in my writing where I can use metaphors and engage a subject deeply- other times, the pages are packed with fluff. Inspiration often visits without reason or invitation. Yet, when I pursue it- it can be elusive and unattainable.

It feels as though I am in control of very little…only the choice to sit down and wrestle with the story, regardless of all that surrounds me.

How very much like life.



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