When the drought broke

“You only fail if you stop writing.”

My mentor’s gentle eyes bore into my soul. He knew that I’d written every day for six days, just as I’d planned, and on the second 15 days I’d rested.

“You only fail if you stop writing,” he said.

“I know, I know. You’re right. I failed,” I said.

“So write.”

“I will,” I said.

“You only fail if you stop writing,” he said. “‘I will’ is not ‘I am.’”

“I know.”

“You only fail if you stop writing,” he said. “ ‘I know’ is not ‘I am.’”

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