I’ve been chugging along. Day in and day out. Sometimes writing with ease and occasionally every word a struggle.

Some days my inner voice is crystal clear and screaming with the need to be heard, to be written, to be shared.

Even though I’ve been writing and counting every day, there are moments when they are just numbers, meaningless numbers. Then, there are days when it hits me and the numbers have a looming power. . . a hold over my consciousness.

Today is Day 165 #OTR50. I’ve only 200 left in this powerhouse year.

I’m both proud of myself and completely unfulfilled and ashamed. Another dialectic arises and announces itself to my soul.

On this milestone Saturday, I spent some time reviewing what I’ve written at the category level. Most of it falls into the category of stretches and warm-ups. There are a handful of items that I can do something with. Poems that make a small collection I can appreciate. The chapter of a longer form story. The children’s story that I could turn into a kid’s book.

However, the majority – like this one – are simple just muscle stretching. Finding my voice, my rhythm, my word selection.

I was listening to one of my favorite musicians recently. She reuses a similar metaphor oftern. It has been sprinkled throughout her work in many of her well-rated songs and in some of those that only fans get the joy of hearing.

I suspect I do this as well. I suspect it is the power and pull of time.

I’m not sure yet.

#OTR50
200 Days to go.

© Randi Sumner