It’s in our nature, I think, to make excuses. I could easily compile a list of why I haven’t been writing: I’ve been really busy; Jake absorbs so much of my time; I’ve got other pressing matters to attend to; I’m not in a good place at the moment. And they are all very real issues that provide a barrier between my writing and me. But the only person I’m really making excuses to is myself, they’re necessary to ease the guilt of not making time to sit and put words to paper.
At some point we have to stop making excuses. Writing is something I do purely for pleasure, and purely for myself. So I only have to ask myself one question: “Do I want to write?” The answer is “Yes!”. And the response to such an affirmative is: “Well, stop mucking around and sit and write.”
It’s simple. I’m a writer, so I’m going to go write.