Last night I had a dream that I was writing again. I woke up this morning, and for a second I had this thought:
“Where did I put that thing I just wrote?” My memory was so vivid — sitting in front of the computer, a Google doc in front of me at my little red desk with papers all scattered around and Hattie on the floor next to me. Of course, there was coffee, too. And it was dark out.
Oddly, I can’t remember what it was that I wrote in my dream.
But here I am. A new sense of “YES!” before me. I want to write again. Pen to paper. Finger to key.
Baby steps… finger to key. Pen to paper.