Writing is hard. Much harder than I thought it would be.
When I was younger I used to write all the time. I would write songs, poems, stories. I would print off all the pages and put them together into a make-shift book. All I dreamed of doing as a grown-up was being an author. That dream ended when I was in secondary school and I realised I was better at science, and average at writing.
As a child I had so much imagination. I never ran out of anything to write about, was never short of ideas. There was no fear of judgement, no self-criticism or crippling perfectionism. That is what I need to find again: the attitude that not everything has to be perfect.
But writing and creating is still something I really enjoy, and something I have decided to start doing again (for the hundredth time). Hopefully I’ll stick to it this time.