Here I am. Two weeks before Christmas break and three weeks before a new literary life of 2020 and beyond. I am beginning to look back at the last three years in particular and wonder how and who wrote what will soon be nine hundred journal entries. It just goes to show you that Seth Godin was right. Writer’s block or any kind of block we imagine ourselves to be inflicted with has the lock deep inside our mind.
There is no writer’s block. There is only good writing and bad writing, but any human being who has graduated high school is capable of both. The problem is that we don’t want to write badly and so we are blocked and never write at all. We don’t pick up a musical instrument. We don’t attempt to cook new things. We don’t leave Ontario. We just sort of do what we always do and let time tick, tick away on us.
I am so happy that I made a commitment to write and I amaze myself that there are infinite ideas hiding somewhere inside my mind. I don’t know where they come from. I marvel that one moment I am staring at a black computer monitor and then in a moment of wonder the screen is full of tiny little black letters and I wonder where the hell they came from.
You have the same well of infinite ideas. We all do. Every single last one of us but nothing will ever happen if we don’t decide to write, to sing, to walk, to do whatever. There are only two options in life, to succeed or to fail. Either option is good. It’s the third that hurts us. Not doing either is not an option but time and a time again we make it an option and remain stagnant.
It’s time to embrace the infinite ideas and life that is inside all of us. It is time to share some of those ideas. Time to live more fully. Time to welcome 2020. Time to write some more.
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