Sometimes you just have to start where you are.

I stood in my own way as a writer for so many years. A decade really.

I wrote my first PB in ‘07. I started a novel in ‘11. I wrote poetry all of my life but stopped in ‘11 or ‘12.

I was waiting for the “perfect” environment. The “perfect” desk. A new laptop. Etc.

Last year woke me up in the best possible way. I couldn’t believe the excuses I’d used.

But I got started. Without a desk. On a ancient laptop that was given to me (one that couldn’t hold a charge and had to be plugged in to work). I...got started.

I didn’t have a printer. I didn’t think I had the time. I was living in GA & commuting to SC for work my first year here. I’d complain because I like to cook dinner too, and I just felt like I had zero time for anything else.

But my complaining wasn’t changing anything.

Day job hours start at 10.5 hours and can go up from there. Many days I wrote/write before work, during lunch, and after work, dedicating my weekends to writing, too. Saying “no” to other things.

For me, I just had to get started. Wherever I was at...I had to start.

With that laptop that couldn’t hold a charge, the one that became too hot on my lap, I started writing.

It gave me manuscripts. Gave me agent offers. And more. No desk. No noise canceling headphones. No printer. No “perfect” place.

For reference, that laptop was so big that I was embarrassed to have it in public after a guy approached me and asked if I was a gamer. He thought I had some sort of gaming laptop. .

And because it couldn’t hold a charge, I had to sit wherever outlets were. It owned me.

Here’s the end.

I have a new laptop now. I have a desk (not a writers desk...but something for 30 bucks that I found, and I’m glad I did because I immediately cancelled my order for a “writers” desk.)

And I’m creating a space in my place where I can write how I’ve wanted...

...to write for so long. So this thread comes from a place of appreciating what I have now, but being grateful for getting started when I did...how I did.

It really does unlock the fullness of life.

I met my writing halfway. The stories were there, waiting for me.