Several years ago my brother-in-law gave me this absolutely perfect journal. I fell in love with it immediately: the leather wraparound binding, the thick, lined paper, the loop for my favorite pen. The whole first day I had the journal, I admired it, pictured myself curled up in front of a fireplace writing in it, fastened and unfastened the strap… but never wrote a single word.

Soon the question occurred to me: When I say I want to be a writer, what do I mean? Do I want to surround myself with the trappings and the ambiance of a writer? Do I want to be identified, labeled, and known as a writer?

Or is it possible that I actually want to write?

That’s the question that, when I keep it in mind, motivates me. Time to close Facebook, stop organizing my desk again, and just write.

When it comes to your work, first things first: If you don’t do, you can’t be.

Thanks for reading,
Jan
PS: After some thought, I decided to use the journal to record quotes I want to remember. Inspiration for writing, thoughts on life that help me get my head in the right place, examples of memorable description, that sort of thing. I’ll share some of those next week.
jj