true confession

I actually wrote something yesterday.

Something new, something not just cobbled together from work I've been doing for ages.

Something that isn't a memo, slide notes for class, a report for a committee.

And once I got started (it only took three days of thinking, outlining, and laundry, vaccuuming, etc) it actually felt amazing. How is it that writing feels so great when you're doing it, but getting started is so incredibly painful?

Why am I confessing this? Since this is what we are supposed to be doing all of the time anyway? it shouldn't be a big deal, right?

Well, it was and is. This was the first writing I've done in 18 months that has felt good. The first writing in 18 months that made me feel that my brain actually might work again. That reminded me why I actually got into this business in the first place. I like thinking, I really do. It's just hard to do when you're depressed. The further I come out from my depression, the more I realise just how hard it's been.