Woodstock and I spent some time this week sorting through books. It’s an addiction, my need to possess books. I know that and I fight it (sometimes) but when there are so many tasty words and they’re rich and satisfying, why should I?

I’m writing one — a book, that is. Whether it will be tasty, I can’t tell you. If it’s anything like my cooking, maybe not. But I do hope and pray that it’s many other things. Helpful, inspiring, encouraging, edifying.

This book idea has been simmering on the back burner for some time and I’ve felt a bit stuck, uncertain about the need for it, not sure whether I’m the one to write it. The thing about being stuck is that the more we stay there — in that space of not moving forward, upward, outward — the more stuck we feel.

So, there comes a day when you decide that you just need to do it. Stick that spoon in it, stir it up and serve it. If I don’t, who will? Someone else might create something similar, but it won’t be driven by my thoughts, my passion, my words. It won’t be my book.

“Stuck” isn’t necessarily a bad place to land. For a moment. Staying stuck is the problem. Take it one step, one stir, one word at a time.

I’m linking up today at Five Minute Friday, writing for five short minutes on the word “stuck”. Won’t you drop by and read what others have to say?

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April is National Poetry Month. Before the month slips through our fingers, I’d like to share another Mary Oliver poem. There are so many, but this one speaks to me today. Enjoy.

 

Graphic: BedsideTableBooks.wordpress.com