Yesterday, I had a day of feeling pretty dejected about the business of writing. And then someone who totally didn't have to said some really awesome things and, I don't know, the sun sort of shifted a little back into view, and I started writing a story. And I only worked on it for maybe a half hour and I don't know if I'll go back to it. But it felt so good to feel ideas turn into words and sentences and to do a little shaping and playing with ideas. Maybe it's what it feels like when you practice a kind of dance or martial art and haven't done it for awhile and you try it again and it's sort of awkward, but your muscles have that sense memory and you hit sweet spots, and, yeah. So, I guess I'm not done.
I have more to say. I will say more soon.