I met someone recently who asked me why I’m not writing anymore.
I laughed.
“I am! I am!”
After my 5am prayers, I’m usually at my computer before everyone else gets up. Most mornings you’ll find me writing long before the day starts making demands. In fact, that’s where I am right now. Time: 5:55
I just haven’t been publishing much lately.
No use explaining why. Some conversations over soggy sarmies and weak tea need not go that deep.
It struck me afterwards that writing and publishing are often confused.
They’re not the same thing.
Writing is growing the baby.
Publishing is giving birth.
Anyone who’s ever had a baby knows those are two very different experiences.
One is quiet, private and deeply personal.
The other is public, vulnerable and suddenly everyone has an opinion.
As an editor, I see this all the time. Writers spend months, sometimes years, pouring themselves into a manuscript. They type The End… and then the document quietly sits on their desktop.
Not because it isn’t good enough.
Because letting your work into the world requires a completely different kind of courage.
Julia Cameron captures this beautifully in The Artist’s Way. She reminds us that our job is to create, not to obsess over how our work will be received. The work comes first. The audience comes later.
That thought has stayed with me.
So here’s my advice.
Just keep writing.
Not because you want to become an author. Because writing is one of the few places left where your brain gets to finish a thought.
In a world of constant notifications, endless scrolling and information overload, writing slows us down. It helps us organise the noise, sharpen our attention and understand what we actually think.
I believe our brains love writing. Maybe they even crave it.
Write anywhere! On a napkin. In the Notes app on your phone. In a beautiful notebook. On the back of an envelope. On your laptop before sunrise.
Just write!
Write a thank you note.
Write your grandmother’s recipe for the perfect carrot cake.
Write about the woman standing quietly on the side of the soccer field.
Write your sunset thank yous.
Write about the broken heart that changed you.
Write about the day your parents suddenly seemed older than you remembered.
Write about the dream where someone you loved came back for one last visit.
Write about feeling completely lost in a room full of people.
Write the conversation you wish you’d had.
Because you have a story that only you can tell.
Not because your life has been more extraordinary than anyone else’s.But because nobody has lived your ordinary life in quite the same way.
Nobody remembers your father’s perfume.
Nobody saw that carcrash through your eyes.
Nobody has your memories.
Nobody has your voice.
And if nobody ever reads it?
It still wasn’t wasted.
Some writing is for publication.
Some writing is for preservation.
Some writing is simply for becoming.
The world has enough content. It certainly has enough junk, not-human content. What it needs is people and their unique combo of words. *hint, hint*
Happy Weekend! Look for things to write about, and may they be sweet.
Lee
Lee Mayimele 