Sunday provided a rare opportunity to decompress. It felt like an episode from a dystopian show where everyone disappears, and you find yourself alone. Eerie, surreal, and utterly wonderful. I had the house to myself, devoid of nerve-jarring noises, and with no distractions and zero interruptions, I found time and space to write. Tragically, after an hour, someone broke the spell, and we were back to business as usual. But for sixty blissful moments, the muse whispered in my ear, my fingers flew across the keyboard, and words appeared on my screen. I live for pockets of time when everything works.

No matter the challenges and the obstacles blocking my way, I maintain the item at the top of my list as a non-negotiable. Yesterday I wrote 525 words.

Did you write yesterday?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer