I've been left a little dry of inspiration lately, especially with writing. I haven't wanted to do much of it...I struggled opening the draft to write this article.

For those of you who don't know, I love writing. Writing is my passion. Writing keeps my sanity at bay. I fell in love with the written word when I was around 11 years old (though I wish it were sooner--no telling how much I missed out on). It amazed me that people so much like me and yet so different could merely think of some idealized or tragic world and breathe it to life. With words.

I couldn't fathom such a heavy idea. It was astronomical, beautiful. And I wanted to see if I could do it myself. To my surprise, it wasn't actually that bad. I thought I was good at it. It was a hidden talent buried in the cave of my naïve self. And I loved it.

Well, looking back now, I know what I'd written then was a hot mess, through and through. I pray none of it ever sees the light of day--that it all died with the dinosaur of a computer I originally wrote on. But I learned. I started reading a lot more, and the more I did, the more I discovered, the more I learned.

I learned it was possible to tackle hard topics through story - like racism, true beauty, heartbreak, depression, and suicide. I learned it was possible for stories to speak to your heart and lift you up. I learned it was possible for words to be so rich and powerful that it sent chills down your spine and warmed your soul. It was all so endless; I had a burning desire to do that myself.

So I did. For 5 years now, I've been writing and learning and improving, and it's been a beautiful experience.

But it's hard. Harder than a lot of things. It's easy to get into a rut, a hole with slick walls that's nearly impossible to climb out of. It's easy to quit, and say you're done. That it's not worth it. I went through a bout of depression and doubt like that recently. It was a dark time in my life. I almost gave up on writing and storytelling completely. Until I realized, I'm doing this for a reason. There's a purpose for this, as there is all things. It's going to be worth it, someday, somehow.

So I write on. It's all I can do. It's hard sometimes - it's rough, it's slippery, it's frustrating, but I'm trusting in the fact that I was given this talent because there's a reason for it that is greater than I'll ever know.

I want to encourage you to do the same. Maybe you're not a writer, but life is all about words and story. I like to think life's one big book and it's forever expanding with what we learn and experience. And while there's an Author who's always writing His story on us, we hold a pen of our own, and that pen holds a lot of power. Vibrancy, love, compassion, joy, peace, fear, pain, anger - we choose to write so many things on ourselves and on others every day. And it gets overwhelming to think we, the bustling, frantic, increasingly vast humans we are, hold that power and it's always in effect. Sometimes we don't want it (I know sometimes I'd rather just hide away where the only one I affect is myself - but really, how mundane would that be?); sometimes we hate it; sometimes it's a burden.

But write on. Life's a beautiful thing because no matter how many times we mess up or give up, there's always another chance to take. Even when we don't want to, the opportunity is always there. And we get to write it on the pages of our heart and the hearts of others forever.

So, when it's easier to give up, write on. When fear is getting the best of you, write on. When you reach a period of gray mundane living, write on. When it's hard, write on. When it's easy, write on. The pen's in your hand. Create something beautiful.