Not the good choice. The brilliant choice.

After "Promise not to stop," this whiteboard drawing says, "That's what I need. Not the good choice. The brilliant choice"

That's what I needed at the time. For my writing. I decided not to make any more good choices—if I eliminated them maybe I would be left with fewer, brilliant choices?

Just to hold myself to that, to sit with nothing good, nothing bad—nothing left?

Or just the brilliant choice—what if I could get to that brilliant choice?

Asking the question is dangerous—cause what if I fail? What if I fail to find the brilliant choice (any brilliant choice) and I fall into the pile below? Who cares? I mean really who cares. No one's watching. There's no consequence to failure—failure is just a misnomer for trying, for working, for playing. Failure is the process. Forget the danger. Ask the question—

What is the brilliant choice?

I treat myself to that level of behavior

And I'm thankful for the day I learned to ask that question

Instead of any other