When I was little, I used to write for fun — stories; plays; my favourite poetic form, the haiku. Now, I write professionally. It’s fantastic, to be sure, but it’s also changed writing for me somewhat. The writing I do now is strategic. Purposeful. The Word Project allows me to colour outside the lines a little, certainly, but other than that, I don’t…doodle.
That’s why, for the month of November, I’m challenging myself to push my writing. To get creative. To play. I’m going to log a little less time on Netflix and write for an hour. Every. Single. Day.
On December 1, maybe I’ll have the beginnings of a novel. Or a collection of maudlin poetry. Or a notebook full of nonsense. Maybe I’ll have a script for a television pilot. Regardless of the outcome, I’ll have reconnected with a long-ago version of me who wasn’t precious about what I put on the page. Who wrote for fun, and came up with some pretty special stuff in the process.