Lately, I’ve been finding it hard to write.
Whenever I sit down to start, I find myself overwhelmed by a certainty that there’s no point. That nobody cares, and it would be terrible anyway.
I try to fight that feeling, but it’s like trying to wear down a mountain with a single scrap of sandpaper. The dust makes it look like progress is made, but after a step back the difference is invisible.
But today would have been Terry Pratchett’s birthday. So, in his memory, I shall try to Be More Terry.
I shall put on my black hat, and go back to the mountain.