I’ve written three separate drafts today that I couldn’t bring myself to publish. They were desperate attempts at something decent but ultimately forced distractions from the reality I’m currently avoiding. I all but deleted them before remembering Anne Lamont’s concept of shitty first drafts.

Life events aside, I’ll get back to these posts in the coming days.

I put words down. That’s what matters. They’re little more than random scrawling, but they’re foundations.

Maybe I’ll build from them, maybe they’ll end up in the trash. A few hundred words is a drop in the bucket. I’ve tossed thousands over the years.

But I’ve learned to keep them, at least for a while. They came from ideas and concepts. Maybe half-baked for now, but with some time they may become something more.

The daily practice is exactly that, practice.

I don’t expect mastery any time soon.

But I might as well keep pushing for it.