I received a request for a meeting from one of my clients a few days ago. He included this note:

BTW — did anyone tell you that you are a typaholic? I was reading your blog (reading many posts)… you like to write. I think its cool. See it as being like a professional whatever… always honing your skills.

Although I didn’t catch in there that he liked my writing, I enjoyed that he noted that I liked to write. I actually lost the desire to write and the habit of writing for many, many years. Sure, I cranked out reports and flyers and things for my companies, but writing for the sake of writing? That wasn’t an interest.

Once I started this blog, I realized I really enjoyed the act of writing. And I got back into the habit pretty quickly. Each day I usually write something on here that takes anywhere from 15 to 45 minutes, depending on the rant. And the simple act of putting my fingers on a keyboard and cranking something out each day has helped me loosen the flow of words. They used to take much longer to come out.

I’m fairly stubborn about making sure I post something each business day, even if I really don’t have time or I’m late (like today). The practice of writing is good, and I very much want people who visit my blog to always find a fresh posting.

Last night I was at the checkout counter at Trader Joe’s, and the cashier asked me what I do. “I’m a writer,” I said.

“I’m an aspiring novelist,” she answered. “My goal is to get my first book accepted by the time I’m 21. Do you have any advice to get me motivated to get words on paper?”

After I struggled a moment between a “fat chance” snicker and a “don’t you dare” glare regarding her comment about being published so young (so sue me — I’m sometimes jealous of people who break into writing in their teens), I gave her the only advice I could think of.

“Writers write,” I said. “That’s the secret.”