Starting Here
The last year I started writing and even had some books self-published. I truly was enjoying writing. Couldn't wait for the words to get highlighted from something I was reading or hearing and boom a tiny book got authored. But the criticism came which I was not prepared. And the writing stopped. I have so many half-finished manuscripts. But somewhere in all of this the writing itself went underground.
This is me bringing it back up. Not for a launch, not for a platform, not for anyone in particular — just because Kafka (the German writer) once said he wanted to write for the pleasure of it, and I remembered that I do too. When I read that I heard my heart say "yes." And a smile came.
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This season of my life is smaller and quieter than the ones before it — solitude, surrender, stillness, whatever real life hands me on a given morning. I'm not building anything here. I'm just tending a small, open room, and seeing what wants to be written in it.
If you've found this by accident, welcome. If you never find it again, that's fine too. Either way, I'm writing.