When I sit down to write I always want words, words, more words.
I don't know if it's because it's still so hot I can not move, sitting in front of this fan, next to the blue and green and brick of the window view, not wanting to get up, go anywhere, be anywhere, but, today, I forced myself to stop. To sit and wonder and think it all through.
It's what I needed. I sat. I imagined. I thought of what could be, rather than obsessed over what is.
I feel like I don't know how to write and I'm learning every day. Today I learned to imagine better, to stop fighting for words.
(And this is the view from where I'm learning. My writing/thinking/imagining spot. This is my tree.)