Finding my muchness.

I’ve spent the last three years writing draft after draft, worrying what people will think about it. And then no one even gets a chance to think anything about it. I usually throw it away before it can even be published. There’s no courage in that. No vulnerability. I call myself a writer, but no one even gets to see my writing, unless it’s been edited down to the very last word and completely stripped of me.

But what I’ve learned is that I don’t want to write for anyone else anymore. I’m writing for me now. I’m writing my way back to myself. Anything else is bullshit.

I’ll be writing everyday for the next thirty days. A lot of it probably won’t be good, because that’s just how it goes sometimes. And that’s okay.

But I’ve lost it. My muchness. I’m writing my way back to it. 30 days, here I go.

Thanks, Jonas Ellison for inspiring me to do this (and for the muchness)