The world is full of injustices and actions that make me rant and rave and curse. But things aren’t so bad today because I am focused on the things I can control. Others do not have the freedom to write. I do, so I should exercise that right to express myself and enjoy it, as others would if they had the opportunity. Others suffer, which I lament and protest, but they suffer no less when I fail to write.
I have found the joy in writing and so finally I am writing copiously without straining and etching it out slowly with all the recrimination and self-loathing procrastination injects into the brain and marrow.
I was deceived and I deceived myself.
I thought it should come hard to be valuable, but writing is finally play. I must be incredibly stupid because I’ve written for so long, for a living, for myself, for others…and now I’ve finally got it. How did I fail to notice?
New thought (to me):
To be valuable, on some level, writing has to be fun,
in execution and in reception.
I have experienced thrills and joys, but all with a wary and unwavering eye to how little time was left to enjoy them, how fleeting my smiles, how soon forgotten the awards, how soon spent the rewards.
Today I’m not doing that.
I write. I edit.
I have never been happier.
Filed under: Rant, Writers, writing tips, happy to write, writers
C h a z z W r i t e s . c o m 