Today is the winter solstice, the day of dying and rebirth. Happy new year!
I get new rules today.
It was last year on the winter solstice that I began to write, to truly write, again. I knew it was time. Not that I hadn't been writing in some fashion or another. There were always journals and emails and the occasional piece that just demanded to be written. I'd published a few things on Love Abides, things that were just too important to not write. But almost everything I'd written had been written because writing is a thing I do, too deeply ingrained that I ever really stop.
But writing and being a writer are two different things, and it was time to become a writer again. To begin to write again with the idea that what I'd write would be not just for my eyes, and it was different, and yes it was not unlike being reborn. I picked up magic last winter solstice and I'd be a fool to put it down again a year later. I'm in my sabbatical weeks but today, only today, am I writing. Who knows what will ask to be written. But something will ask, for that is the energy of the day.