I don’t know what to write. 

I take that back. I know exactly what I want to write, I’m just not sure how to begin.


There’s a basic law of the universe: writers typically write. Except for this one. At least lately. 😉

It’s been a while since I actually sat down with my laptop and typed out a chapter. Not for the last month and a half to be exact.

But oh, the stories are there. They are in my head and in my heart and on scraps of papers sprawled across my desk. Snippets of love and life filling up word documents on my computer and waking me up late at night, grasping for a pen and something to write on. Anything. A receipt, an old piece of wrapping paper, it will do. It doesn’t matter that I can scarcely read the words come morning. Some I carefully transcribe, other’s I leave. There’s something wholly satisfying about seeing a piece of a character’s life etched rapidly across the corner of a cereal box all the while wondering if someday it might be more. Greater. If a reader could some day hold that story in their hands. And if it might bless them.

I don’t know the answer to any of these ponderings, but I’m ever so thankful for these days of quiet and all the while, wonder with great curiosity what may lay on the horizon. I’m not sure which story I’m going to pick up first, but right now, the wonder of it is half the fun. 

What do you like to do during seasons of quiet?