It’s getting late, but I feel like writing. Writing about something, anything – maybe something profound, maybe a short story, maybe the beginning of a novel, or maybe, if I’m feeling very brave, something personal. So here I sit with this desire and yet feel I have nothing of value to say. Why is that? I spend hours each week talking with and counseling friends based on my experiences, thinking about stories I would write if I had time, questions I would love to explore, but when it comes time to write, the motivation is there, but the words dry up, leaving me thirsty for a means to express myself but without any way to quench it. Nevertheless, I write still. And that is victory in and of itself. In time, the words will come again and will flow as a stream slips gracefully over pebbles. Until then, I will continue to try different paths to find that stream, trusting that one of them will lead me to it. And until then, I will remain grateful for the desire – for that, too, is a victory.
Thirsting for Words