A few weekends ago, my 6-year-old and took a spontaneous trip to York River State Park. While there, we rented a canoe. He hadn’t ever been on the water and pleaded with me to take him.
Once we paid the fee, they gave us a pair of life vests and a paddle and off we went. As we walked through the woods to where the canoes and kayaks docked, he couldn’t stop talking about how excited he was to go on the water.
Once we got to the water, my son hopped into the canoe, and I dragged it onto the river. As we paddled, he marveled at all of the birds and other things he saw while on the water. At one point we put sat in the canoe and played a game of “I Spy” while facing the beach.
After two minutes of playing, we looked around and noticed that we had floated farther out on the water than where we were since we had stopped paddling. “How did we get way over here, Daddy?” he asked.
That’s the drift.
Whenever we stop paddling, we drift. If seems like we aren’t moving, but like the river, the world does not stop when we do. Before we know it, those writing projects we started with vigor sit in a folder untouched. That’s when discouragement sets in, along with all of those bad thoughts we have about our ability to write (or finish anything).
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