I’m writing letters to my family. I’m writing postcards and thank you’s that are long overdue. I’m writing in my journal, trying so hard to pay no mind to the crooked lines and uncrossed T’s.
The task isn’t nearly as ambitious as writing a novel, but I don’t want to write a novel.
I’m writing, just writing, to see where my ideas take me, following them like a trail of scattered breadcrumbs.