Pilot's license

You never know how others will react to what you've written. All you can do is throw it out there and hope for the best. 

Certainly I didn't expect the responses that followed my last journal entry, "Quit your day job." When I wrote that journal entry I did so, at least in part, for therapeutic reasons. It had been a long day. We've all had them. We all have our own ways of dealing with them.  I used to run, but aging knees forced me to curtail that activity. Now I let my fingertips do the running for me, all over the keyboard.

"Quit your day job" was cathatic for me. I didn't write it expecting anything in return. I was surprised, pleasantly so, when I saw the comments that kept popping up at the end of it.

I'm truly humbled and even embarrassed (thanks, Mom) by the comments that followed "Quit your day job." They certainly lifted my spirits, which had been grounded by a dense fog before writing that journal entry.

The Toddler's Gran (aka my Mom) is right. I wasn't cut out to be a pilot. My trembling legs after my first solo flight told me that.

But I did learn how to fly. Writing allows me to take off from and land wherever I want. I go on some pretty incredible journeys and don't even need a passport.

I think writing is the best way to fly.  I never lose my luggage. The only time I need to refuel is when I run into a bad case of writer's block. I have a first-class ticket to any destination of my choosing. And it's a lot safer than flying an airplane.