Dear Frank,

It’s been a while. I feel you’ve been more present since I’ve last written to you. Isn’t that strange? Is it the fact that I’ve been ignoring you the reason why you’ve tried to hijack so much of my attention?

I find this paragraph from Elizabeth Gilbert spot on, and then some. I doubt you’ll like it, but then again, this isn’t about giving you warm, fuzzy feelings, is it now?

Dearest fear: Creativity and I are about to go on a road trip together. I understand you’ll be joining us, because you always do. I acknowledge that you believe you have an important job to do in my life, and that you take your job seriously. Apparently, your job is to induce complete panic whenever I’m about to do something interesting – and, may I say, you are superb at your job. So, by all means, keep doing your job, if you feel you must. But I will also be doing my job on this road trip, which is to work hard and stay focused. And Creativity will be doing its job, which is to remain stimulating and inspiring. There’s plenty of room in this vehicle for all of us, so make yourself at home, but understand this: Creativity and I are the only ones who will be making decisions along the way. I recognize and respect that you are part of this family, and so I will never exclude you from our activities, but still – your suggestions will never be followed. You’re allowed to have a seat, and you’re allowed to have a voice, but you are not allowed to have a vote. You’re not allowed to touch the road maps; you’re not allowed to suggest detours; you’re not allowed to fiddle with the temperature. Dude, you’re not even allowed to touch the radio. But above all else, my dear old familiar friend, you are absolutely forbidden to drive. E. Gilbert, Big Magic

It’s funny, because I’ve been meaning to share this with you for a while now, and somehow, I didn’t get round to it, until now. Food for thought, Frank, food for thought.

Until next time,