Question for me today: What is it that draws you to writing this blog?
Answer:
Because it’s just for me. I can say almost anything I want. No one is asking me to write, no one is critiquing or editing what I say, and honestly, no one has a vested interest in it but me.
This morning, as I write, my dog Andy is perched on the back of the couch, snoring softly into my ear. I think he may be my biggest fan. Every time I sit down to write, he’s either under my feet, in my lap, or—like today—balanced on my shoulders. At first, I thought it was because he felt neglected, but now I believe he senses the calm it brings me.
When I write, I enter a flow state. Words spill out in a stream of consciousness. There’s no tension, no stress—just me and my thoughts. Julia Cameron, in The Artist’s Way, encourages this kind of daily, free-flowing writing. She calls it “morning pages”—handwritten, unedited, and never revisited. I followed that practice for a few months last year. It felt grounding and liberating.
While I couldn’t keep up the morning pages habit, this 100-day project of mine has offered something similar. If you’ve been following along, you know there are gaps. I couldn’t sustain writing every single day—but here I am again. What’s helped me return is letting go of the pressure to be profound. I just write. I type my thoughts, give them a light edit, press “publish,” and move on.
Yesterday, I began an abbreviated memoir of my life and made it to my late 40s or early 50s. Today, I’m not ready to continue that journey. I’m more in the mood to write about writing—why I do it, how the ideas come, and how the words find their rhythm. These are my words, my thoughts. There’s no Pulitzer Prize waiting at the end, but what I gain is far more personal: a lighter heart, a clearer mind, and—sometimes—a “like” from someone who took the time to read.
What draws me to writing this blog is the freedom. The freedom to be wholly myself without worrying about judgment. No one in my personal circle knows about this blog, and there’s something wonderfully freeing about that. I don’t have to explain myself or defend my thoughts. I can just be.
And maybe, someday, this little blog will grow into a fabulous, best-selling book. But for now, it’s just this—my place to breathe, reflect, and write.

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