A Change of Plan. And a Caterpillar.


‘I think I have writer’s block’, I tell my brother, Ty, when he asks about my lack of blog posts.

‘No you don’t', he replies. ‘Just not writing is not the same as Writer’s Block.’

And dang, in that moment, I realise that he is completely right.  Not knowing what to say, not knowing how to say it, being unsure if it is good or not, all of that just equals not writing.  And not doing what you love out of fear or apathy or ‘losing your nerve’ sounds like crazy talk.  Crazy talk that very quickly becomes time that passes, leaving a unsettling emptiness, an unfinished sentence, a half drunk cup of tea.

So here’s what I am going to do.  I’m going to write.  Everyday.  Here. For a month.  Seven days a week.  I’m not sure yet what I will say.  Or how I will say it.  But I’m going on a diet.  A diet of words, to shed apathy and fear and well, more apathy.  Words for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Words.

A month of words.

Hello tummy butterflies.  Let’s begin…

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