As of today, writing something every day is a challenge. I feel like the most unimaginative person on the planet. The late John Prine wrote a song Angel From Montgomery, and one line goes, “How the hell can a person / go to work in the morning / and come home in the evening / and have nothing to say.”
How can that be? Because that’s me. I’ve got nothing to say. Every day. Yet I’ve been awake and functioning and interacting with other live people. I don’t get it.
Let me be clear to myself (this is self talk) I *will* write something every day. I *will* have something to say. That is my intention. And each day that I write, each day that I exercise the writing muscle, I get a little stronger. So, here’s to tomorrow’s writing.