I’d Trade All my Tomorrows for One Single Yesterday

If you’ve been hanging around this blog, you know that I hate to talk process. I don’t want to know if you write in the morning or the evening, If you write by hand or on a Remington. You use a Moleskin? Who cares? I’m like if you’re writing great. Bring me the broom. There is no excuse that interests me and the reason is no one cares if you write. For me, it’s liberating that no one cares. It’s not cruel or unfair. It’s your tightrope, your ledge, it’s your nest of blue thread. Is writing holy? Is coffee? Your computer whirring. I’ve heard so many excuses why people can’t write over the years. They are all boring: illness, weather, family, pets, children, work, lack of privacy, isolation, envy, worry, anxiety, psoriasis. It would be interesting if anyone cared. This is all you need to know: your writing is sacred. It’s your covenant and sacrament. It’s your good name.

What makes you interesting?