We stole palm fronds with rusty machetes down by the beach and danced barefoot around crackling fires underneath the stars.
We were wild and fierce, at times too much;
We knew joy.
2018 has been a wild ride for me.
But it’s one that I never want to forget. I learned the value of gratitude this year — it’s a lesson I never want to forget.
Sure, I definitely did less writing that I wanted to in 2018. I had lofty goals that fell short somewhere around April, and then I never really got into the swing of things after that.
All the same — this was a year of truly living for me, and I think it’s important that I do live, and I lighten the insane pressure I place on myself sometimes.
Of course, I still want to be a published author, but that’s secondary now to a different vision I’m chasing.
I write because it brings me life.
The kind of words that fill you over and overspill in the middle of the night, dripping onto the carpet beside you like a glass brimming with water. Those are the words I love. That is the feeling I chase. I know now that it can’t be forced.
It seems like it has taken me a decade to learn that lesson
But here I stand, chasing to follow my joys rather than my fears. Choosing to open myself up to the possibilities of the future rather than hide away from the world. Choosing to lighten the pressure a little and focus on what I love: the words.