Just Write

The blogging world is so old, I am not sure why I am even here. I should be working on editing my book, or writing my new one. It has been one year and nine months since I have finished the first draft of The Cemetery Club. I've had two beta readers read it and suggestions have been made,  but then I get stuck, not sure what my next move is. I feel literally paralyzed. The story that got me through some of my darkest days, I just don't want to return to. I know I can shelf it. That is probably what I should do, but then I think this is the book I needed when I could not focus on anything else, so maybe it's the book someone else will need if they are going through the gates of hellish grief. And then I'm stuck again.

It is easier to read someone else's words than write my own. It is easier to run towards a physical goal than aimlessly twiddle my thumbs while I try to force a plan to take shape. It is easier to get lost in a good show, episode after episode than feel like I'm not making forward progress on my writing goals. So, I sit. Today I'm grateful I showed up to this little writing desk, even if it didn't go as planned. Sometimes the goal changes, and I just need to make peace with that. 

I can still be a writer and not be published. I can still write a story for my children to read one day and say, this is the book that saved mom from herself. I can look at the writing process as part of my healing progress and call that a success. Today I sat down and wrote. For today that is enough.