Let me just say it: There are some scary things going on in the world right now. The Coronavirus is threatening our health, our economy is crashing, and our jobs are, at best, uncertain.

The responsible thing is to stay home. The safe thing. Because this keeps everyone safe, not just you.

If you’re home, you’re not out catching the disease. If you don’t catch the disease, you can’t spread it to others. And if you’ve minimized your exposure to COVID-19, you’re less likely to contribute to it spreading when you do have to go out.

Because there are vulnerable people in this world, some more vulnerable than you. Even if you’re relatively young and reasonably healthy, what could present as a cold to you could send a compromised individual to the hospital, or worse, to their death.

So please, STAY HOME.

Okay, I’m glad we covered that. Now let’s talk about what’s next.

Have you ever called yourself an “aspiring” writer?

We’ve all been there. Thinking that until we have a book published, or edited, or drafted, or _________, we can’t call ourselves a “writer (period).” We think we are “aspiring” to a lofty title, a far-off goal that may or may not even be clear in our heads. We think that “aspiring” tells people we’re humble. And, deep down, we think “aspiring” means we’re off the hook.

Ouch.

Today marks Thanksgiving Day in the US. It’s a time for family to gather, celebrate traditions, and eat a lot of yummy food. It’s a time that most enjoy.

But what if you don’t?

What if you’re dreading difficult conversations? What if being around your family is less than peaceful? What if the holidays are the farthest thing from love, joy, and peace and instead bring anxiety, guilt, and that horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach?