“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
~ Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
I’ll keep this short.
You see, I’m busy. Writing.
Not blog writing. Book writing. Do you know how many words you need for a book? So many words. Not even counting the ones I erased already.
It’s become a bit of an obsession right now, getting this story onto the page. The words and the feelings are cramming themselves into every spare corner of my brain. Words are spilling out of my fingertips onto scraps of paper or notes on my phone when I am away from my desk. Words crowd around the bed, waiting for me to wake.
Soon there shall be a finished draft, and then the real work shall begin as I wrestle those errant words into a tidier form, making them look more closely like that thing I had pictured in my head which was my story before it had a life of its own.
Coffee now, and more writing.
And then more of that. And some more.
One day, perhaps, I will hold this story in my hand, and then it will fly away from me and out into the world, maybe even finding you.
But for now, it’s just me and the page, and endless soul-birthed words…
