Let me tell you a story.
Many a day I sit in my chair to write but have nothing to say.
I wonder about ideas, but everything eludes my mind. I look at the blank page, and it shamelessly stares back at me.
This continues until I drop a random, first line about anything. Sometimes, it is about how I feel at that moment. Other times, about what I did during the day.
Once I see the first line, then comes the next and then writing, still raw and devoid of meaning, takes off.
I keep writing about random stuff like feelings and my daily activities. In between, I look around my room and outside the window where I can’t see much except the dark.
I return my gaze to the room and back to the page. I think to myself: Why I need to do this? Does it matter to people? Is it going to do any good to anyone? Will it change the world?
The cynic in me does not stop there. It asks question after question for which I have zero answers. I, however, write the questions and doubts it casts on me.
On such days, I keep the fight for twenty minutes to half an hour. The reason I do not give up in those moments is that I end up writing a few random paragraphs.
I believe it is better to write the worse junk you ever can than not writing at all.
Keep your pens moving ladies and gentlemen for writing comes to those who don’t give up on it, even in the worse of their times.
Have a wonderful week.