The first word

When you write that first word a piece of flint is struck against steel inside your imagination. The first time, it might not start a fire. It might not even spark. But if you write another word, it’s another strike. Maybe it doesn’t strike this time, but maybe it does. If it doesn’t, keep writing those words. Eventually, after many tries and many fails, the flint and the steel inside you will start a raging fire, one that keeps you going through winter, keeps you warm through pouring rain, keeps you safe. And then, my dear friend, you’re a writer.