Brewing. Resurrected Post.
I got out the brew kettle yesterday. It���s been a while since I whipped up a batch of beer, but the entire process felt familiar and proceeded smoothly. And, of course, the kitchen smelled wonderful. The kitchen also required a thorough cleaning, but creating a bit of a mess is an unavoidable consequence of brewing beer.
There is a sense of satisfaction that accompanies making something yourself. A feeling of accomplishment. Something akin to ownership, but at a deeper level than possession of something you merely purchased. I made this, this is mine.
Writing provides a similar glow of pride. ���I wrote that,��� you think upon seeing your output���s publication for the first time, the final results of your dedication and craftsmanship. There is a difference, however. Once the brewing process is complete, you���ll want to drink the beer. When your novel reaches publication, you���re unlikely to want to read it one more time. The enjoyment of the product is vicarious.
So, if you���re feeling a creative urge, get out there and make something, build something, cook something, write something. You may end up making only a mess, but damnit, it���s your mess.
