Not too long ago, a dear friend and I were chatting online. We covered a lot of conversational ground; it had been a while since we’d been in touch.

We checked in on some serious subjects. “I felt better when I was writing” she remarked. “Me too,” I replied.

I had been writing sporadically, when I wrote at all.  I had abandoned drafts waiting here, and subjects I wanted to explore elsewhere. I had more than enough time, so what stopped me? Me.

So I sat down and faced my lonely blog, and chose a topic. I wrote and I posted. And I did it again and again. And I did it some more. Guess what?

I feel better.

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