I do not have to write about what I said I was going to write when I woke up this morning.
I do not have to write about what I was writing about yesterday.
I am allowed to not finish what I start.
I am allowed to keep something in a draft for years before I finish.
I do not have to write about my job.
I do not have to write about something that is interesting to someone else.
I am allowed to write about something that is painful to me but I do not have to.
There is room for my words in the world.
The only rule I want to follow is that I should try not to do harm.
Telling the truth or hurting feelings are not the same as causing harm.
I do not have to write special words.
I do not have to write magical, lyrical prose.
Nothing I write has to be “good”.
I do not have to publish what I write, not in a blog, not on social media, not in a Medium post, not in a publication.
I do not have to subject what I write to critique if I don’t want to.
I have the right to ask for criticism and I have the right to ignore it.
I do not have to write fiction because of always writing fiction before and I also do not have to write poetry because of never writing much poetry before.
I do not have to follow the exercises in the book.
When I write my three longhand ‘Morning Pages’ I am allowed to say whether they will be front-to-back pages.
I can write about things that other people might think are not worth writing about.
I can write about things other people find disgusting, like toenail fungus or cleaning out the refrigerator.
I can write about things that feel like telling people too much, like sex and shame. Here’s to airing dirty laundry.
I get to say what is worth writing about. I don’t have to care if anyone agrees.
I deserve a creative life. I deserve to set the terms of that creative life.
I am what Yoda said: “luminous beings are we; not this crude matter.”
I am allowed to love and care for myself through writing. I am worth writing down.