When I am sad, mad, frustrated, or disenchanted with life, I usually do one of two things . . . write or go outside and absorb nature. Recently, since I’d spend the previous two days in nature planting a very large garden, I chose to go to the keyboard. I shut the door and wrote.

Some might argue that such writing would be less than stellar. Some might argue that the storytelling would be flawed without my head totally in the game. But I landed 1,400 words. I had to fight for those words. I had to dig down to find those words. I had to fight with the angry self inside me wanting to go outside and throw rocks in the lake.

But I wrote half a chapter. Looking back over the material, I cannot tell you which words those were, because they sound just like the words I wrote when I wasn’t upset.

Just sit and write. People who wait until they are in the right frame of mind are missing a lot of word time. Not to mention the therapy sort of settles my angry little butt down.