I have always wanted to be a writer, for as long as I can remember at least. However, I sometimes seize up with the pressure of it all – when those nasty little voices in my head tell me that I can’t do it.
So I forced myself every day this week to write something; a snippit from my mind, another hundred words on my manuscript, a note to myself.
The result – I finished my first erotic short story. It’s rough and unpolished as a piece of gravel, but it’s finished and the little flutter of joy in my chest was worth the pushing.
The more words I write, the more words come to me.
Lesson for the week – just let it flow