Write a hundred pieces. Each time take one thing and make it better: a better title, better structure, better ending, better descriptions, better dialogue. Just one thing. It adds up.
We spend so much of our lives chasing a polished version of ourselves — as if one day we’ll wake up with a name that fits perfectly, a purpose that clicks into place, a life that finally makes sense. But the self is never meant to be a finished sculpture. It‘s more like a river — shifting, expanding, carving new paths in quiet persistence.