Here’s the thing about writing — I haven’t done it in a long, long time.
Writing was something I used to do without thought, something so perfectly easy and something so perfectly me. I lost that, somewhere along the way, while growing up and trying to find myself.
I’m not sure why I stopped. Too busy with work, perhaps; too much time spent making sure other people’s commas were in the right places and their paragraphs were the right length. It was easy to become jaded of your own writing when you spend eight hours a day nitpicking over someone else’s. It should have made me a better writer, you would think. But it didn’t — it made me a damn good editor but it also made me wary of my own words.
So here’s to me, even as I look askance at daily prompts, wondering whether this will be the push for me to finally move on, and finally get back to getting the words out.
Wish me luck.