Go to the Beach.

In my genre workshop today, the six or seven of us had to go around the room and answer a series of questions about ourselves. One of them pertained to recurring themes. What were you born to write? the professor asked us. What are your themes?

I would normally hem and haw over such a question. It's a fluctuating thing, I'd say. My themes shift as I shift through different life phases. Friendship may come up a lot during this year and adultery the next year. Each story is a fresh start and I'm not a sucker for rigidity.

But today, for some reason, I actually really thought about the question instead of dipping into auto-pilot hem/haw mode. And this is what I realized: Everything that I've ever written -- ever -- revolves around the same theme. I may not have always been conscious of selecting it, but it's the theme I return to, time and again.

My recurring theme, and what I was born to write, addresses the difference between thinking and doing. I believe we are all good people who desire to do good things, but instead we do messy, crazy things. How do those two intersect and contradict one another?

And that's when I realized one of the partial reasons why I've missed writing workshops so much: They're therapy sessions, plain and simple. I learn more about myself when I'm putting words on paper and receiving feedback from other writers than I ever could in any other possible scenario. And today I realized that I'm really attracted to flawed characters -- both in my writing and in my life. The deeper your imperfections, the deeper your humanity -- this seems to be the singular belief that drives nearly everything I do, every decision I make, and every action I take.

We're not good people, bad people, black and white people. We are good people who do awful things. We are bad people who do wonderful things. But mainly, we're just people. So when I'm asked about my ability to forgive and my willingness to dish out second and fifteenth chances, it boils down to this: I believe in the humanity that exists in everyone. And I believe that no one out there wants to be as screwed up as he is. And I believe the disconnect between his desire to do right by the world and his inability to execute that desire is the loveliest theme I could ever think of, and one I'll surely be exploring for years to come.

On the topic of therapy, a professor yesterday advised that we take care of ourselves. Instead of trying to attend every single seminar and lecture, she suggested, listen to yourself and your body and figure out what you really need. Some days, you need to skip the lecture and take a walk on the beach. You need to sleep in and drink tea and catch a seminar later that afternoon. You need to be careful with yourself and treat yourself well.

Do you realize how much better the world would operate if everyone -- everyone -- heeded this advice? It's not an excuse to be a slacker. It's merely a key that unlocks the self-forgiveness we all so desperately need. We need to forgive ourselves for being human and for not having the desire or ability to do everything all the time.

Sometimes, like she said, you just need to take a step back and take a walk on the beach.