It’s coming up on two years now, and the wounds are starting to heal. At least I think so. The nerves have gone numb so it’s hard to tell.
I’ve wanted to write this for a while but the words only come when I’m alone with my thoughts, and I’ve come to avoid doing that. I’m probably going to get the words wrong, but since the growing numbness will soon make it impossible to record this, it’s now or never. It’s probably already too late.
I lost a friend that day in October. A very close friend. Closest I’ve ever had. The kind you talk to daily. Poof, just like that, gone. No warning, no nothing. Just gone. It totally blindsided me. The light went out, and set off a nasty cascade I wouldn’t wish on anyone. …
Snap went the sound of my anchor line — loud as the crash of a thousand dying dreams. The whiplash extinguishing this little light of mine which had thus far been keeping the blackness at bay.
Dinghy capsized, its sole occupant alone in the void. Head barely above the surface.
All that remains is time.
Don’t worry about the packaging before you have something you can package.
Before you get that logo designed, and before you agonize over colours and fonts, and before you choose a blogging platform, start writing. Write daily. Write as often as you can. Whether you publish it or not, just write. Some of it will be good. A lot of it will be bad, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is consistency. Once you’re consistent, then worry about the packaging.
Until then, write.