WHOOOPS.

Tuesday night I went to bed realizing I had forgotten to get a blog written for the next morning, but by then it was too late and I thought oh the heck with it I’ll do it tomorrow it’s not like I messed up the space time continuum or something (a thunderstorm proceeds with non stop lightning and rain that sounds like it’s gonna come right through the house. Ok, maybe I messed up something).

I haven’t been doing as much writing as I would like to be doing (but that is a statement I always say no matter what is happening. Probably the only time I feel like I’ve had enough writing is during Nanowrimo), BUT I’m just so thankful I am a writer right now.

Even though everything is cancelled, you can’t go anywhere or see anyone, and you got to walk around the grocery store with a 6 foot pole and a Mandalorian helmet on over your hazmat suit, I can still write. I can still do the thing I love to do. Stories and writing go on.

And if you’re ever wondering, “is my writing even important? Am I doing anything meaningful at all? Do stories matter?” Well, let me tell you these are the times it becomes painfully obvious that THEY DO MATTER. People need an escape, need joy, need adventure, need to be entertained, need to watch someone else’s fictional problems.

Stories help people get through things.

And writing stories will help you get through things.

That’s it. That’s all I got to say. So write, read, watch movies, just enjoy stories.

There will probably not be a Saturday Morning Post, since it’s Easter this weekend. But I will be back on Wednesday! (I PROMISE actually on Wednesday this time).

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