Nothing helps me make sense of a phase of life like ink. Not just writing… literal ink on paper is what I’m on about today blog family.

As the world continues to progress into a digital abyss, I understand the handy tool of key clacking. Key clacking is sweet to a Writer whizzing through chapters or polishing something up to share with their cult.

My favorite sort of Writing remains to be in ink, for a variety of reasons. I understand the number one
reason to be the therapeutic effect. I find that scribbling in my books reduces stress levels, predominantly because there is no sub-conscious buzz to hit a word count, create a great ending, or keep someone engaged.

It’s just me – paper – and ink. This is what I love more than anything on Earth… besides the puppies and a few other pieces. Maybe it’s an obsession? Whatever it is, it always ends up taking care of me.

I think everyone needs some sort of method to take care of themself when the going gets good. My going is so good at the moment, it’s about to shoot me 10,000 miles to the other side of the planet in about five days.

I should probably pack. Clean the house maybe… I don’t really feel like it though.

All I feel like is ink.