A part of me finds comfort in taking a step back and sorting my life into compartments, especially during this pandemic. I find it easier to wake up and seek out one compartment, browse through it and if I want to do something about it, I do it, if not, I put it back and reach for another.

Today, I thought about my writing. Of all the things that could come to mind it was only words and my love for assembling them, stringing them along and weaving a tale. And it was the fact that I have two books that have been shelved for 3 months now:

• Laana: Daughter of the Middle World
• Every Market has a Mad Man

And as I was contemplating advancing the plot of these books, I thought of how easy it is to be paralyzed by perfection, to want something to be perfect so much so that it stops you from getting anything done. This is what I have been allowing, the notion that they have to be perfect and for someone who has written and published before, I should know better that the first draft is just that. It’s the first thing, and it’s as imperfect as it can truly be and can be edited and refined only when it is complete.

So, I am writing again. I am going by a schedule and so far it feels good to imagine the world and the actions the characters I write would take.

It’s been more of a slump since March last year in the world and today, in my world, I feel like the sun is beckoning me and I want to put this moment in writing, to cast this feeling into words, into history.

Have a good day🧡.