I've been thinking a lot about my writing. I think that perhaps I am more of a dabbler than a "real" writer. I love to connect. To make people smile. Or feel understood. But, I'm not really a professional. I often choose to use fragments. It's part of my style. I begin sentences with and. Purposefully. Knowingly. With care. Yet still.... that means that I am not a real writer.
For me writing is cathartic. It puts the hurt or pain in a place away from me. It allows me to "store" negative feelings in a place that is safe. I don't feel a need to hold on to them and try to remember. It also gives me the opportunity to share with others what it is to be a woman who struggles. Who has hurts. Who is not perfect. Who does not have the perfect life. Yet can live with great delight. (that's, a little stolen quote from my friend "live imperfectly with great delight.) I love the word delight. It's so uplifting. Maybe because it's "light"?
For me, writing is playful. It's time to chat and enjoy. It's a simple pleasure. Like having a cup of tea and reading a good book. No stress. Free. Relaxed. Comfortable. There is hardly anything that I do that brings me so much peace.
For me, writing is nurturing. It can uplift someone. It can uplift ME. Sharing happy thoughts. Thankfulness. Blessings. Pointers. Foibles. What not to do. It's like getting a hug via words. And, sometimes that's all we've got. Because we're too far away for the real thing. Yet, words can wrap themselves around us and bring comfort and love. Sometimes my writing nurtures me by reminding me of what I want others to know. That they are incredibly loved. Wanted. Cherished. Treasured. Adored. Necessary. Full of possibility. And, in that reminding, I am changed. Uplifted. Encouraged. Blessed. Like it came from someone else. Yeah, I know. It IS strange. Yet, it's true.
But, I'm a dabbler. No great huge platform. No talk shows. No thousands of people on my social networking sites. As a matter of fact, I work to keep my facebook below 200. Though, today I thought about really going for it and seeing how many friends I could have as fast as I can.
You see, to be a real writer, I need an agent. And, to get an agent, I need a platform. And to get a platform, I have to have some really great book all ready.....and write about it online and blah blah blah. And, I don't know that I have any of that.
What I have is a heart that wants to share. To let people know that they aren't alone. And whether I ever publish or simply reach one or two, it doesn't really matter. I will write. I won't worry about the rest. Oh, I WILL think about it. I will decide if I want to invest all of me into a book. But the thing is....how do I remain anonymous and do book signings??? Ha. Dilemma. All in good time.....
For now, I'm a dabbler.
grace to you.
For me writing is cathartic. It puts the hurt or pain in a place away from me. It allows me to "store" negative feelings in a place that is safe. I don't feel a need to hold on to them and try to remember. It also gives me the opportunity to share with others what it is to be a woman who struggles. Who has hurts. Who is not perfect. Who does not have the perfect life. Yet can live with great delight. (that's, a little stolen quote from my friend "live imperfectly with great delight.) I love the word delight. It's so uplifting. Maybe because it's "light"?
For me, writing is playful. It's time to chat and enjoy. It's a simple pleasure. Like having a cup of tea and reading a good book. No stress. Free. Relaxed. Comfortable. There is hardly anything that I do that brings me so much peace.
For me, writing is nurturing. It can uplift someone. It can uplift ME. Sharing happy thoughts. Thankfulness. Blessings. Pointers. Foibles. What not to do. It's like getting a hug via words. And, sometimes that's all we've got. Because we're too far away for the real thing. Yet, words can wrap themselves around us and bring comfort and love. Sometimes my writing nurtures me by reminding me of what I want others to know. That they are incredibly loved. Wanted. Cherished. Treasured. Adored. Necessary. Full of possibility. And, in that reminding, I am changed. Uplifted. Encouraged. Blessed. Like it came from someone else. Yeah, I know. It IS strange. Yet, it's true.
But, I'm a dabbler. No great huge platform. No talk shows. No thousands of people on my social networking sites. As a matter of fact, I work to keep my facebook below 200. Though, today I thought about really going for it and seeing how many friends I could have as fast as I can.
You see, to be a real writer, I need an agent. And, to get an agent, I need a platform. And to get a platform, I have to have some really great book all ready.....and write about it online and blah blah blah. And, I don't know that I have any of that.
What I have is a heart that wants to share. To let people know that they aren't alone. And whether I ever publish or simply reach one or two, it doesn't really matter. I will write. I won't worry about the rest. Oh, I WILL think about it. I will decide if I want to invest all of me into a book. But the thing is....how do I remain anonymous and do book signings??? Ha. Dilemma. All in good time.....
For now, I'm a dabbler.
grace to you.
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