“I am a writer who came from a sheltered life. A sheltered life can be a daring life as well. For all serious daring starts from within.” ― Eudora Welty, On Writing

As the air grows crisp and ever colder, the garden recedes back more each day towards dormancy. Why is it now that writers begin to stir and strive towards a higher aspiration? I think it comes from a place of stillness, when we finally slow down enough to feel the restlessness within. Maybe there’s a carry-over from the reading habit and a desire to dance with words at certain times of the year. Mostly I think it comes from a feeling of immediacy. It’s now or never, friend. The things we most want to see written won’t just write themselves.

The pup has other ideas for me. I have the beginnings of carpal tunnel syndrome in my wrist from all the frisbee throws. She’s a lot like the universe in this way: always expecting one’s complete attention for as long as she wants it and not a second more. If we are to accomplish anything in this lifetime, at some point we must learn to break away and listen to that voice within that similarly insists on our attention.

The thing is, we run out of excuses not to be daring. We must create the work we want to see in the world. Those aren’t my words, they’re the words of every writer who had the audacity to think they had something to say in their time and got to work. Enough of reasoning already! Be bold and begin, but finish it this time.