Sometimes I just write . . .

I know this probably sounds a little weird, but sometimes I just write. I write because I want to, I write because I like to, I write because I have to, and I write because I can. And I don’t really care if that makes any sense to you.

Yesterday my wonderful husband told me he was okay with putting out $1200.00 for me to take a year-long advanced writer’s course.

It’s like he just knows.

How cool is that?

But I haven’t decided if I’m going to enroll. It’s a huge commitment and I have a very busy life. Good excuses, huh?

Part of me just wants to dive right in and do this before I talk myself out of it. Another part of me is practical – wanting to think it through and make my lists of pros and cons before reaching a decision. Yet another part is wondering if I’m getting too old for stuff like writer’s courses, and everything that entails.

(That last statement sounded lame, even to me.)

The bottom line?

Sometimes I just write . . .