For the writer who keeps saying "not yet"

Ways that writing has been life-giving and why now is the right time to begin.

On January 1st, I wrote a Substack piece about a small commitment- to write every day for the next 30 days. It wasn’t a New Year’s resolution or an attempt at a reinvention to become someone new. It felt older than that. Quieter. Simpler. Like something that had been patiently waiting for me to stop saying “not yet”.

It was an undeniable pull I’d been suppressing for far too long. Writing had been yearning for my attention and eventually, it’s request became louder than my excuses.

So I decided to write and publish every day for 30 day. That’s it. No grand plan or outcome attached. Since then, I’ve published something every day. Some days, the writing comes fully formed and thoughtful. Other days, the pieces are written within the margins of a very full life; between raising one smart, negotiating toddler and a teething baby, work calls, keeping a home clean and tidy, cooking meals, running errands, social gatherings and bedtime routines. Some nights I hit the publish button well after my said 9 PM bedtime goal (whoops still not nailing that) but I make peace with the timestamp and we do it, we get it done, and we move on.

What matters is this: the practice is alive. The momentum is real. And that has changed everything.

I’m learning that consistency doesn’t require us to be perfect. I haven’t had a chance to go back re-read some of the pieces and edit them. Heck, I know some of them if not all are filled with typos😬. It doesn’t ask for uninterrupted mornings or pristine energy.

It simply asks for our presence and a willingness to come back again and again.

Twelve days in and my only honest report is this:

The practice of writing daily is deeply life giving.

Even on days with little sleep and low energy, it has offered something that feels sustaining, grounding and steady.

Liberating too.

Soo liberating.

Not in a dramatic, overnight-transformation way but in the quiet, steady sense of remembering who I am when I let myself write in my own voice.

Today I’d thought I’d share a few things about how nourishing this practice has been even within the confines of a very full life. I hope it offers a little nudge of encouragement for anyone out there who has been carrying a quiet desire to write but is overwhelmed with the demands of life. I hope it makes you feel that you worthy of expressing your own words too.

1. Writers live twice

There’s a line I once read from Natalie Goldberg in her book Writing Down the Bones that has stayed with me:

“Writers live twice. They go along with their regular life, are as fast as anyone in the grocery store, crossing the street, getting dressed for work in the morning. But there’s another part of them that they have been training. The one that lives every second at a time. That sits down and sees their life again and goes over it. Looks at the texture and details.”

That idea landed gently, then deeply. Writing is the place where I get to pause long enough to notice what might otherwise pass me by. Another fleeting moment. Sometimes it’s a moment from the day, soaking up sacred times with my little ones, sometimes a childhood memory, sometimes it could be a phrase that flows through my mind and it carries enough weight and feeling behind it that it catches my attention and inspires me to write about it. Your ordinary every day life gets to be the material, the contents, the meat in between the sandwich?

Writing let’s us digest our days and linger in them longer knowing that it won’t last forever. Yesterday I was cleaning out my garage and came across an old journal of mine. I flipped through the pages and as I read some of my writing, I felt like I was meeting a past version of myself- frozen in time through these words. It was an opportunity to reflect how much i’ve grown and there is always a nostalgic feeling that comes with it. Writing bears witness. It’s an opportunity to say “I was here”. I lived this. I cared about this. I valued this. This mattered to me.

ordinary days with my family are truly the best days.

2. An invitation to slow down

Writing slows us down in a way that teaches us how to pause and listen - to both ourselves and to God. I often like to write with a mug of piping hot water next to my computer. If it’s early enough in the day, my hot bev of choice could also be either a double espresso or a matcha. Either way, I love it hot enough to see the steam rise up in the air. It makes me sip slowly. There’s something about that small ritual that mirrors the act of writing itself. Because writing is a slow. It asks us to touch, feel, breathe, take in everything that is around us. To notice the colors, the sounds, textures, tones and the feeling behind it too. It presses pause long enough to remind us we’re allowed to be here without performing or producing anything remarkable.

Writing doesn’t demand your whole life, just a few honest minutes with yourself.

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3. A liberating force of self-expression

Everything is energy and energy needs movement. This is simple physics. And energy needs to be expressed. When energy is suppressed, it becomes depressed. Take it from someone who has lived with depression before. Writing gives me a creative outlet to express the energy stored inside. Writing gives energy somewhere to go. It transforms something invisible into something that feels tangible. It liberates our voices. It gives languages to what would stay unnamed and unattended. It gives breath to what might stay hidden. There are so many versions of ourselves that we get to meet through writing or doing the things we love.

4. A creative offering

When you write, you are participating in bringing something new into the world. There is only one unique you in the world. Your fresh thoughts, perspectives, way of seeing the world, lived experiences gets to be a sacred act of love that others receive. That is not small. That is an offering and right now, there is someone out there waiting for the words you’re withholding because you think you need more time, more clarity, or more confidence. You don’t. Truly.

5. Connection and community

Since publishing daily, I have already connected with people in my life who I didn’t know were reading my entries. It has opened the door to deepen relationships, build community and help others feel seen and understood as they navigate through their own life. It invites empathy and shared humanity. It reminds us that we are not alone in what we carry. And that in itself, feels like grace.

6. Writing heals without hurry

There is something deeply healing about writing. It gives us a place to bring what we’re wrestling with out to light - layer by layer without rushing towards a resolution. Without the need to be fixed. It lets us tell our truth in a gentle way, at our own pace without force. Writing has been a way for me to sit with God and say, this is where I am. Not where I should be or will be but where I am right now. Right here. There’s a quiet mercy in discovering that right where I am is all that’s needed to begin. I’ve seen the way that this has come into fruition when I come to the laptop with no idea what I’m going to write about. But the moment I tune in and become fully present, the words appear. Writing listens to your feelings, big and small and helps you integrate it in a way that turns your wounds into wisdom. It doesn’t demand a resolution, only honesty.

If you’re still saying “not yet”…

I don’t know where this is going to take me 30 days from now. I’m not making goals or promises or putting any kind of pressure out there beyond today. I’m not attaching outcomes.

I only know this: that good and wholesome things happen when I show up and listen. When I get honest as gently as I can. Writing doesn’t ask me to be more impressive, more showy, more polished or more certain. It doesn’t wait for life to settle down. It simply asks: “will you come sit today?”

I love that writing asks me to be present. And lately, that has felt like enough.

I love that A Peace of Milk & Honey gets to be a place where life can be met, held and honored exactly as it is.

And for now, that’s where I’ll stay.

What if you gave it a chance too? 🍵

Warmly,