Words come on their own time…
No isolated oasis of thought or a serene mountain with a view will make the words come…
What a distorted image painted for authors to exist… for writers to write... for busy people to find time to dial down their insecurities in written form.
What a charade advertised by bygone stories forgotten in the wind of a steep learning curve or an elitist game privy only to the few…
Write when the words come not when you think... but when they decide to show up… write when you can be silent and when you can’t stop from writing…
Remember writing always exists it’s you who is unavailable for it… what that looks like can’t be painted nor will it ever match your fantasy story about it … so just write!
Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~