People often imagine writing as a sudden flood of words pouring onto the page. For me, it’s softer, slower. It’s less about waiting for inspiration and more about creating a space where words feel safe to come.
Most midnight/mornings, I make hot tea not because I need the caffeine, but because holding a warm cup gives my hands something to do before they touch the keypads. At the same time, I sit by the LED light by my bedside, letting the light remind me that another day has begun, another chance to tell a story, to say a prayer, to pour something unseen into words.
Sometimes I start with a scripture or a single sentence that whispers at me. Other times, it’s journaling, letting the first messy thoughts clear the way for deeper writing. I don’t rush it. I write in fragments and breaths.
There are days I wrestle with silence, where no words come. And that is also part of the daily writing ritual, learning to honour the quiet as much as the overflow.
My daily writing isn’t glamorous. It’s hot tea, led light, stillness, and trust, but in these small, repeated rhythms, books are born, letters are written, and devotionals find their voice.
Because writing is like faith, it isn't about perfection. It’s about showing up, one soft ritual at a time.