Whether it be an essay or song,
whether it be short or long,
I make myself write.
Is that so wrong?
I push my muse to be more deft,
only to find myself bereft.
I make myself write,
but end up being left!
I fear my pushed muse will run away,
I fear my stressed paper will turn to clay.
I fear pushing forward leaves hope all out sight.
Yet still– yes, still– I make myself write.
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I spent all day away from the blogging world, working on non-writing projects. Art! Sound! Food! Other muses called louder than the internet or my journals. I do so much writing day after day that it’s always weird to go to bed without a thousand words under my belt.
What about you?
Do you make yourself write when you’re not feeling up to it? Or only write when the muse calls?
