If there’s anything I know for certain about writing, it’s two things.
The first thing is tied up in my insecurities. The second thing is this:
You can’t force it.
Still, here I am, working on my daily writing prompt, intending to press “Publish” at the end.
Yesterday I wrote about the reasons we write. There are so many, but the reason I seem to fixate on is to preserve moments and understand why they mean so much. I’ve been doing it since I was a child.
If I think back on how I spent my day, there were a few heavy parts of it. But the light parts were this: an over two-mile walk through a nearby trail, where we discovered rocks we could climb. Naturally, we did—bringing all seven pounds of Gigi with us, the sun toasting our skin in the most inviting way.
I think about the vegan ramen soup recipe I followed later that night. Heating up sesame oil and grated ginger and minced garlic and the aromas that floated out of the pot. The busy time of cooking made Sunday stay with me a bit longer, pushing thoughts of the week ahead out of my mind.
I think of my sleepy dog, as content with her day as I was.
(Daily Writing OO2)
Thoughts?