wordsmith.social/jonbeckett

I've been sitting in front of the keyboard with an empty text editor for the last ten minutes. The well of words I have so often visited seems to have dried spectacularly in recent months.

It almost feels like I've forgotten how to do it – forgotten how to empty my head. I find myself second guessing every word I might write – the thoughts I might share. The weight of twenty years of storytelling is oppressive. While reading the distant past, it's like reading the words of a different person.

I guess we all change though. We might not recognise it happening, but we do.

I find myself railing increasingly at injustice, thoughtlessness, and prejudice – far more than when I was young. I'm not sure why. Perhaps being a parent changes you somehow – makes you more aware of equality and fairness.

Isn't it interesting how thoughts become introspective late at night.

Writing these words – if only for a few minutes – has felt like opening a rusty tap. A tap that hasn't been turned for some time. If feels good.