On Writing Daily

People ask me how I write. The honest answer is: badly, most of the time.

The poems that make it into the world — the ones that feel finished, that feel true — they're the survivors of dozens of half-starts, crossed-out lines, and paragraphs that went nowhere.

The practice

I write every day. Not because every day produces something worth keeping, but because the practice itself is the point. Writing daily is less about output and more about showing up. It's about keeping the channel open.

Some days the words pour out. Other days I sit with a blank page and a cup of coffee that goes cold. Both days count.

What I've learned

The poems that surprise me most are the ones that arrive when I least expect them — in the middle of grocery shopping, during a conversation that takes an unexpected turn, in the silence after someone leaves the room.

you asked me what i was looking for — i didn't have the words then but i do now

Writing daily taught me that creativity isn't a faucet you turn on and off. It's more like a garden. You tend it. You water it. You trust that something will grow, even when you can't see it yet.

For anyone who writes

If you're someone who writes — or wants to — here's what I'd say: don't wait for inspiration. Sit down. Open the notebook. Start with one true sentence. The rest will follow.

And if it doesn't? That's okay too. Tomorrow is another page.