I tried everything I could to write today.
I tried setting my intentions.
I wasn’t “in the mood” to write (the most non-justified justification a writer can make), so I figured if I got it out of the way first thing, I’d be less likely to skip it entirely (or come up with more excuses why I could).
Except my web host was experiencing an outage.
No problem, I wasn’t in the mood to write anyway (pen and paper were obviously not an option). An hour or two later, the host was back up and running. No more excuses. I was going to write.
Except I’d lost my resolve.
I tried reading for inspiration.
I hadn’t been reading a lot over the previous week. I write about books — bibliotherapy; reading is a requirement. I would read until I felt inspired to write. (For someone looking for an excuse not to write, it was a pretty good one.)
Except I didn’t feel like reading.
I tried going through old notes for ideas.
No sense in reinventing the wheel. There was probably something already half-written on an index card or in a notebook somewhere. I went to my Kindle highlights.
Except I wasn’t inspired.
I tried reading again.
I scrolled the first twenty or so titles in my library.
Except I was bored with the same old topics.
I tried finding a new book.
I went to Kindle Unlimited and opened about twenty tabs of potential books. The last one was by Berni Xiong, entitled The Year of the Brave Bear. It caught my attention.
Chapter 1, Page 1.
The days I wanted to crumble up and rot in the corner on my own to hide in my shame and defeat, those were the days I especially made sure I wrote. —Berni Xiong, The Year of the Brave Bear
Thank you, Ms. Xiong.
After all of the excuses and failed attempts.
I decided to just begin.
Some days, you just have to write, even when you aren’t in the mood, even when you’re not inspired, even when you don’t have any idea what to write.
Some days, you just have to create, even when you don’t feel like creating.
You put pen to paper, brush to canvas, fingers to keys. And you begin. One word in front of the other.
So that one day of not creating doesn’t become two. And then three. And then three hundred and sixty five.
You create on the days when you don’t feel like it, for all the days when you do.
429 words later — it’s a start.