Last week in our coaching call, we spent time touching base with something fundamental — why we write. What our writing allows us to say. The truths we get to explore. The permissions we give ourselves when we sit down at the page.
At the end of the session, writers wrote letters to themselves. Reminders for the hard days. And while there were striking similarities across many of the responses — the same fears, the same longings, the same reasons for showing up — the letters quickly became something else entirely. Precise. Personal. No two were the same.
One permission that surfaced stopped me. The permission to prioritize writing over other productive tasks.
It sounds simple. It isn't.