The Writing Workshop
I sighed and let my arm flop onto the bed. The entire morning had slipped away, wasted on mindless scrolling. I told myself I’d finally put the phone down, grab my laptop, and maybe start a new series to unwind. But then I remembered—I hadn’t checked updates on Crowdpen yet.
So, naturally, I went back to scrolling. I liked a few posts, dropped a couple of comments, kept scrolling… and then I saw it: “The Writing Upgrade Workshop.”
I tapped on it and read through the details. The content sounded too good to be true, so I read it again, slower this time. I paused and thought about what this could mean for me. How everything could change if I actually committed to this.
But then the usual thoughts crept in—the list of half-finished pieces I’d abandoned over the years. Would this just be another one? Another thing I’d start and leave hanging?
I clicked away from the site and tapped on a movie to distract myself, but I couldn’t concentrate. My mind kept drifting back to that post. What if this is exactly what I need?
After a lot of back and forth, I signed up. I figured, Well, at least now I’ve paid for it—maybe that’ll be the push I need to stay committed.

Meeting Day
I was at my desk in the site office when the first session started. Laptop open, phone beside me, pen and paper ready for notes. But of course, the interruptions came almost immediately—calls from my supervisor, clients from the estate reporting issues.
Each time I stepped away from my desk, I took my phone with me, trying not to miss too much of the meeting. But the truth is, I missed chunks of it. By the time I finally slumped back into my chair, exhausted, the facilitator asked everyone to share their expectations for their first drafts.
I listened as people spoke, hoping I could pick up ideas from them to guide my own thoughts. But everyone shared around topics I wouldn’t have thought to write about on a regular day. I started to panic, confused and scrambling for words.
When it was my turn, I managed to say something, though I wasn’t sure if it made any sense at all. It shouldn’t have mattered—we were only sharing expectations. But it mattered to me. I had so much to say, so many questions to ask, but my mind was all over the place.
Thankfully, I hadn’t gotten any more interruptions since I sat down, and I decided to keep it that way. I quickly sent messages to my team letting them know I’d be unavailable for the next hour. I set my phone to Do Not Disturb, determined to focus for the rest of the session.
I told myself: The next time they ask for a submission, I’ll be ready.
And I was.
I delivered my first draft later that day—a simple narration of my experience that morning. Not perfect, but real. And for once, I finished it.

Reflection
Sometimes showing up for yourself is messy. You’ll start late, stumble over your words, and get distracted. But the point is—you still show up. And maybe that’s where the real upgrade begins.