Sometimes I just don’t want to write because the words I write just feel stupid. Sometimes I think that I will never write anything good again.

The reason I am still writing after having been barraged with such thoughts is that I know that I get in my own way with that kind of thinking.

And I start to play. I scribble lists of stuff I would like to do one day, make quick and easy doodles, journal, tidy up the office. Anything but writing serious stuff.

And the feeling goes away. There hardly passes a day without writing. I hardly ever go to bed feeling dissatisfied because I didn’t write a word. I write.

Because I play.