How do you find the will to write when your life in this dimension keeps hitting road blocks? Maybe you’re the sort that can persevere regardless, but I have learned: not I.
My saving grace? As always: words. Maybe not even whole books (though escaping out through a portal would be great), but any which way words come. Songs, poems, quotes. The shape, texture and color words brings; also gives life.
Another thing is surrounding myself with fellow writers who encourage me, prompt me, wink and nudge and because they are just human kindness personified; give me gifts like this:
It’s a lonely profession and in times of ash and night can feel insurmountable. I guess the key is remembering why we fell in love with words in the first place.
