sunburst after darkness: at long last, I'm writing again
Sunday, December 4, 2016
I know this to be true about myself: I can't find peace unless I'm engaged in the never-entirely peaceful struggle of writing.
I need to be inside a story. I need to find faith that story can matter.
And now at last I am forty pages into a new book that has required me to listen very carefully, to imagine very deeply the life of a young woman I've come to care enormously about. A book that has sent me down exquisite research trails. A book that I want to wake up to.
Engaged with my own work again, I can engage more deeply with my community.
We have to be whole to give of ourselves wholly.
I need to be inside a story. I need to find faith that story can matter.
And now at last I am forty pages into a new book that has required me to listen very carefully, to imagine very deeply the life of a young woman I've come to care enormously about. A book that has sent me down exquisite research trails. A book that I want to wake up to.
Engaged with my own work again, I can engage more deeply with my community.
We have to be whole to give of ourselves wholly.
1 comments:
My mind spins. I have notes upon notes on my phone, on paper next to my bed and within the margins of books. I weep when I realize my pen to paper is crappy, losing, lousy and not enough. I want this to end. Only I can end it.
Post a Comment