Staring over feels like wonder and worry and chaos and calm. Sometimes it feels like sitting at the edge of the waterline and sometimes it feels like gasping for air and fighting the waves.
And in the midst of all of that uncertainty I am trying to build a life raft board by board, rope floating off before I can tie it into knots.
But little by little something is coming together.
I’ve created a routine-500 words a day. That’s it. Most days I beat it and it feels good to be making progress even if it’s slow. It feels good to reach a little higher than I expected, to see the finish line in the distance, pulling towards me when I wasn’t sure that was possible.
Maybe tomorrow I will doubt and freeze and not produce a single word. But I’m not as afraid of failure as I used to be. Because even failure is a sign of progress. It means I finished something, that I put it out into the world. It means that I finished. That is all I can worry about right now—finishing. Because finishing the life raft is all that matters. There’s no surviving without it.