The pleasure of writing
“The first draft of anything is shit.”
― Ernest Hemingway
I was up at 5.30 am but I knew that if I started to write today's post, I wouldn't have time to finish it.
In any event, I needed to clean the house, walk the dog and wanted to enjoy an unhurried breakfast with Mrs S and daughter #3.
And so, here I am, sitting at my desk (at work!) typing these few words.
For me, blogging, writing an almost daily journal and a few poems has been an immense joy; and I've never taken it for granted — both the inspiration and the technology.
But, as I reflect on my life, I wonder why I started so late?
It's not that I think I would have been any better but writing is cumulative much like any craft. In fact, it's one of the few things infinite in its scope.
Never mind. It is what it is.
One thing I do know is that as long as I've got the passion, energy and ability, I'll continue to write. I'd like to think I've got a choice but that quiet voice that appears daily will, I'm sure, keep me pinned to my seat, bashing out a few more lines to (inter alia) make sense of this discombobulated world.
Bring it on.
Have a wonderful day.
Much love, Ju.