I am still here. Wanting to write but still so unfocused in making this happen. Someday I want to be a writer but then I know there is no someday. Just today.
I am nearing 50 and I am beginning to seriously be afraid about not fulfilling my dream. Daily there is something I need to do that I keep postponing the prescribed writing practice. And most days I question if I can really write and if it’s worth my time. But then the desire never wanes. It is always here. Quietly nudging at me. Write. Write. Write.
What will I write about?