Blank Pages

I cracked open a new notebook this week...
and it stayed open without a word written for a few days.
I didn't have anything to write in it, but so much at the same time.
Does that make sense?
There are so many thoughts the ramble in my brain on the daily.
Thoughts on book ideas,
or funny things my kids say,
or frustrations that I need to write down so I don't blow up and say them out loud,
or just simple words that I don't want to forget...

But mostly, I want to scribble down every single word...not worrying about punctuation, grammar, language...just writing.
But I can't - that's just not me.  I don't do it because I am a perfectionist.  It's this thing I have about starting a journal or notebook with something that I think is wrong.
It's not perfect, so I'll stop using that notebook.
Kinda dumb, right?
I think so...
Something happened this time around, though.
I tore a few pages out after trying to write something and then just stopped.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and as I opened them - something struck me.

I wrote from my heart and prayed on paper instead.

No, I didn't instantly start writing.
No, I haven't started writing the great American novel, either.
I did just stop and scribble some thoughts down, though.

And wow!
That just made me so extremely happy.


  1. I'm definitely sending you a copy of The Artist's Way! :)

  2. Oh how I love this and my Nay your journal of life is published every day you blog. It's not everything but it doesn't always have to "all" be shared at once. Just keep writing and don't toss anymore out... It's about you..only you and your thots.

    P.S. you can't be a perfectionist having chose a friend like me! Oh I loves you and miss you so much.

  3. I love new notebooks. So many possibilities. So much space for cheap therapy. Even on the torn out pages.


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