Today, I spent no less than six hours writing, and I don't know that I've got a single word worth keeping. I've typed. I've highlighted and deleted. I've copied and pasted. I've worked with a fictional character, and I've worked through several non-fiction ideas as well. And if I've come away with anything concrete, it is simply this: I am uncertain of nearly everything.
Which is okay. In fact, its probably better than okay. Its probably even good in a sense. I started the day with a mix of certainties and confident assumptions, and I had every intention of unfolding and displaying those thoughts in this space. But when I put them up to the light, they turned out to be full of holes. And that experience may be the single strongest argument that I can make for undertaking the process of writing in the first place.
So now I am going to turn this computer off and slowly back away. I'm going to humbly set down all of the pieces of today, and wait to see what they look like in tomorrow's morning light.