So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. ~Virginia Woolf
I’ve learned that being an emerging, submerging, re-emerging, doggy-paddling writer and a poet, at the age of 62, surely needs persistence.
Perfectionism and self-doubt can stop me in my tracks.
In those moments, of which there are many, I set an intention to practice gratitude for the freedom and time to write, whether it matters for ages, or hours, or not at all.
I try not to worry all of the time (although I do for much of the time) whether the finished piece will be regarded as good, bad or mediocre.
Truly, I am powerless over how readers may respond to my writings.
But, I do have the power to hone the craft and do the best I can.
My offerings are aided and abetted — more ofttimes interrupted — by my wee rescue darling, Beannacht meaning Blessing in Irish.