I don’t usually reblog posts, but this one really hit me, and I’ve been thinking about it all week. Definitely worth a read.
The glass has been shattered, and the sand has run out. So, fellow writers, hear me out. Stop looking for the bauble that will make time flow within your palm like a river. It doesn’t exist. It never has.
”How do I find time for my writing?” people ask. ”You don’t find it,” I reply. ”You make it, for nobody will give it to you.” Not the most satisfactory answer, I suppose. But true nonetheless. When there’s a will, there’s a way. Family, friends, job, duties, they all swallow up big chunks from our life. In the end, we feel drained, our body devoid of energy, our mind languid.
But I wonder frequently. Do we use that as a shield? A convenient excuse so as not to come face to face with the fears and insecurities we experience regarding our craft? After all, it’s a safe route to walk…
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