Ready, Steady, Go!

I want to write, I stand at the threshold, on the side of anticipation, looking over the boundary-line and into creativity. it’s out there, it exists. But from here it looks tangled, a code without clues, the thickest of brambles. That’s how I feel, each time I open up a blank page, each time I think about writing. And it doesn’t seem right just to cross over the boundary and start hacking at the root of the matter, but instinctively I know that this is exactly how anything happens.

So here I am, stepping, cautiously at first, over the boundary line and into the mist and the marsh of it all. I’ve been here before, I took these same steps years ago and without half as much trepidation. I bounded into the possibility, but not now, not this time. What’s changed? When did I become aware of my own nakedness? I’ll get there, because I must, because the alternative is to wither away.

The dog is wining for me to take hime home. The sun is shining.

I’ll write tomorrow…