Journaling is starting to take root. I get to write whatever I want, no filters, no censors, no little man sitting on my shoulder and scolding me about this that or the other misplaced word.

Having said that, my search for an appropriate writing competition is stalled. There are _so many_ competitions, ranging from the obviously amateur to the probably professional, and everything in between. The internet bulges with horror stories of writers who cough up money to enter writing competitions, only to see their submissions ignored, their money stolen, etc. etc. etc.

So the trick is to find a reputable competition. That may take some time. In the meantime, I continue to write.

A friend asked me if writing was “cathartic”. I suppose that it is, after a fashion, but the only true catharsis is reality. For example, if I had cancer (which I don’t!), I could write all day about a life in which I didn’t have cancer, or in which a cure for cancer was found by some selfless latter-day Dr. Howard Roark, but at the end of the day I would still have cancer. So it goes with other topics that might be candidates for catharsis. Until the actual problem or issue is resolved, writing can – at best – provide a temporary injunction. For some things, only time and space can highlight a way beyond. But in the interim, writing (or journaling, if you prefer) is a healthy way to let out some creative energy, and provides unequalled mental stimulation. The act of creation is beneficial in many ways, even if that same act doesn’t negate or do away with other, painful realities.