Peace, at last

 

Not having wielded the pen for days at length, I felt intimidated about the right hand’s capability to beget any words on paper. This intimidation led to uncertainty and a lack of confidence in self’s capacity to craft a sentence. And then when against my wishes I sat at my desk and forced myself to grab the fountain pen and write whatever comes to my mind, the words started flowing. Although there was a slight hesitation in the beginning, but then everything seemed all right; I wrote for one hour and when I put my pen down I realized that my cold sudoriferous hand has written twelve pages of my life story with the following word of advice directed to the self in unequivocal terms: write every day if you wish to call yourself a writer in future years! Unlike most self-directed advice issued by the mind, I intend to strictly follow this one. If you are a writer then, mon amie, never let a hiatus transpire your writing life if you don’t want nightmares of an exhausted writing life haunting you at night.