Writing everyday sometimes feels like searching for pennies on the streets of downtown San Francisco. It’s grimey, hazy, and for the most part, futile. It always feels like there’s so much to say, but I often can’t say it right. It feels off when I reread the words on the page and must scrap it for something else. There is an elusive point I’m chasing here, and it always seems to be one step ahead of me.
I am earnestly reminded of a quote in a show I love:
“We’re all running to or from something at various times of our lives. But no matter your speed, the truth is always just that bit faster.”Ducky, NCIS
How do I catch it by the tail and hang on for dear life?
Some days, the right words are hard to come by.