Someone asked me recently how I manage to write when the world feels so heavy. I've been turning that question over ever since.
The honest answer is: badly, and then better, and then badly again. There is no secret. There is only showing up to the desk and trusting that the work matters even when — especially when — you cannot see why.
I've been reading a lot of poetry lately. Zbigniew Herbert. Anna Akhmatova. Mary Oliver. These are writers who wrote through far worse than anything I have faced, and their pages are full of light. Not the easy kind, but the kind you have to earn.
If you're struggling to write (or to do anything), I hope you'll forgive yourself the difficulty. The work will be there when you're ready. And so will I.