I once met a guy whose life’s work has been about keeping things fresh. That’s not what this post is about. (I just chuckled).
This post is about me starting again.
Writing is risky business and sometimes I get my ego bruised. And then I go into hiding. This is my umpteenth start. I suspect there will be many more stops. And hopefully just as many starts.
It’s funny that starting again is so difficult and yet – there is nothing that gives me joy and fulfillment as to dream and to write.
I think the pressure to be excellent also gets in the way. I get in my own way. Here’s hoping that this bout of bravery lasts and lasts and lasts.