Last month I wrote and finished a short story. While I liked the story, I set it aside, intending to go back to it later for reevaluation. I thought I could make it better.

Maybe I can.

This week I finished an essay for this site. Had it ready to post today. Only to pull it the night before.

I liked it. Just think it can be better.

Maybe it can.

There is a problem with not letting go. With not sending what you got out out of a misguided sense that it’s not good enough. Or, in these cases, that they could be “better.”

There is also a problem with sending things out before their time. With thinking “This is good enough.” Or “This is fine.”

Holding back in some cases, hopefully in these cases, allows the passion and fire to cool, to let me approach what I’ve written with fresh eyes. Maybe I can do better. Maybe I can just hit send and move on to the next project.

As all of this is going on, I’m working on notes for more stories that I’ll ever have time to write. I’m being productive. I’m moving closer to writing something.

And yet there is an ever present fear I’m just spinning my wheels.

Maybe I am.

Last month I wrote and finished a short story. The first one in a long, long time.

This week, I wrote a blog post. Sat down and wrote it beginning, middle, and end.

If I am spinning my wheels, at least something is in gear. That doesn’t feel too bad.

Hopefully the blog post will pop up next week. It just needs one more pass through. Maybe dig up a picture or two.