Run for the joy of running because your spirit cannot be contained in a walk.
Write for the joy of writing because your spirit can’t hold back the words.
Sing for the joy of singing because life has a melody and harmonies so pure and clear that it has to have music.
Speed across the page never-you-minding whether the phrase is perfect or awkward or pretty or odd, because the words have to spill out and never you mind whether they spilled out in a perfectly ordered order.
Because it’s fun to write, or it better be, because you’ve spent your life writing and the spirit who has never had fun is a sullen spirit indeed.
Attend to crasftsmanship? Craft away, child, but not until after you’ve said it all raw and full and with all the joy you can’t hold in your heart a minute more.
