Not writing is like a shadow on my shoulder, always projecting itself in front of or behind me; always making me aware of its dark, pressured presence.
Not writing feels like I’m cheating myself of something.
Not writing and pretending that life is OK without writing is being in denial about my true life force, and what sustains me.
Not writing means missing out on the brilliance of a beautiful phrase that encapsulates perfectly a feeling; like a drop of dew on a morning leaf.
Not writing because of having no time makes me wonder how I’m spending the time I do have – meaningfully or wastefully?
Not writing means I’m not committing to myself.
Not writing means the option to beat myself up about not writing, or the opportunity to have taken a break and come back refreshed and invigorated and determined.
Not writing becomes too much of a burden to bear.
Not writing eventually turns into writing.
Writing is much preferable to not.
It’s about choosing to live, rather than merely exist.