The trick to writing every day and being successful, they say, is to figure out your why. Why do you write?
I thought it was because I had stories to tell, that I enjoy seeing people and telling their stories. And that might very well be because… I’m in Alaska, the land of the alone in the middle of a pandemic where… we don’t get to see people and those around me don’t want me to tell their stories. They probably won’t like how they appear to me. I am, after all, a rather judging bitch.
Maybe that’s the reason I’m struggling. I have no one to interact with. No one to connect with. No one to inspire stories to be told.
I wonder, then, if I can change my why. Stop wanting to tell the stories of those around me and start telling stories that inspire the people around me to be people worth having stories written of them.
But do I have that in me?