There’s now a glossy flat patch over the right side of my space key. It’s where I hit the bar whenever I type a space while I’m writing. The left side – the gaming side – still have some of the rough finish that came with the board.

Over the past 5 years, I have relentlessly hit key after key, typing out chapters of stories after stories. If you asked what drove me, I honestly couldn’t say.

When I started writing 14 years ago, I had long periods of blanks, where I was either too lazy, unmotivated, or lacked the ideas to write. But now, after all these years of furiously clacking away at my keyboard, I’m not sure if I can stop.

This is not a long blog post or some well-researched article. I’m just feeling melancholic and wanted to spew words onto a page.

It’s my catharsis. It’s the thing that calls out to me every time I falter. The words don’t come as easily as they used to. Life has made everything harder. But I don’t think I can stop.

I don’t think I want to.

So I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep creating.

Unlike many of my peers and juniors, I lack the natural talent that seems to come so easily to them. My friend, Marie Howalt, recently released her first traditionally published book, We Lost the Sky. I did a review on it and I’m still constantly astonished at her talent.

I want to reach that level one day, with the ability to enrapture audiences in another world, another life.

Maybe one day I’ll reach it. Maybe that patch on my space key will give way and break long before. Who knows. But either way, I hope there will be some readers left by then to see me at the end of my journey.

Have a good night.