I have thought creativity was something that belonged to other people, the ones with agents and book deals, professional websites, and beautiful kitchens lit just right. Not to moms in pajamas, typing blog drafts between loads of laundry. But somewhere between my third cup of coffee and my fourth “new project” folder, something started to shift.

For years I’ve had big ideas. Too many Google Docs. A trail of blogs with good intentions. A million half-started things that scared me a little too much to finish. I’d get stuck in my head, paralyzed by perfectionism, imagining a critique before I’d even typed a sentence.

But this time, I told myself, “It doesn’t have to be brilliant. It just has to be honest.” So, I wrote. Every day. Some days it was five sentences. Some days it flowed like honey. Either way, I kept showing up. There was no book launch or viral post. Just a steady rhythm of writing what I saw, what I felt, what I cooked, and what I believed. I stopped waiting for permission. I started pressing “publish.”

Writing is the bravest thing I do with my quiet hours. Because it means being seen. It means not knowing if it will matter to anyone else, but doing it anyway. And slowly, I’ve learned that faithfulness beats flash every time.

So today, I want to ask:
What is something you’ve always wanted to do, but never thought was possible?

Maybe it’s not as impossible as it once felt. Maybe you do not need a platform or a plan. Maybe all you need is the nudge to begin. One word. One sketch. One step. Every act of creativity is a declaration: I am here, and I have something to say.

And friend, I hope you do.
Because I want to see it come to life.

Gracefully yours,

Help keep the words flowing and the stories brewing.
Buy Me a Coffee

Reference
Niequist, S. (2024). Celebrate Every Day. Zondervan.