I go paddle boarding pretty regularly. At least once a week, twice if I can coordinate schedules with my SUP buddy to make it happen.
Aside from the fact that it's without doubt one of my favorite things to do, I constantly find myself amazed by how each trip out onto the water continues to vary from the time before. We launch at the same spot nearly every time. Usually at the same time of day, same day of the week...and yet, something is always strikingly unique about the experience.
Today it was fog. Creepy as fuck, fog. There's always a little something eerie about not being able to see what floats beneath the surface, but the eerie factor multiplies by about a hundred when you also can't see what's coming or going ABOVE the surface.
Regardless, it was beautiful and as always, completely worth it.
Writing. It's kinda the same.
I mean, you'd think after writing something in the way of 20 plus love stories, they'd start to sound the same, begin to retell themselves in some way. Maybe, get boring even. For me. I don't know about you...
But somehow, they don't. Somehow, sitting down at the same time every night, at the same computer with the same coffee and the same intention of writing a romance novel, still continues to deliver new and different results.
Strange. And sort of fascinating. But I'm going to leave it there, because I'm not trying to understand (or jinx!) the hows and whys. I'm perfectly fine with a 'that's just how it is' and a 'keep on keepin' on' as long as it gets the job done.
So, there ya have it.
Some real deep thinking (yes, that's sarcasm) from someone who only slept four hours last night and hasn't had nearly enough coffee to be all that insightful but who totally thinks this was worth sharing :-P