Just keep writing and the rest will come.
I walked away feeling bereft. Why? Because writing was the one thing I wasn’t doing. And I was afraid that it was the one thing I couldn’t do.
Now, of course I was doing some writing at this point and had been for years. Snippets of character description, short paragraphs or even single lines that would pop into my head at a time when the only thing I had to write on was a gum wrapper. On a few occasions, I’d even started a couple different novels. But I wouldn’t keep writing.