Written

I know there are some of you who check my blog daily - or several times weekly - and are probably wondering when I’m going to write again.

Well, yesterday I wrote something. At home. On paper. With a pen! I was pretty jazzed about it so I read it to Hubby when he got home. He said it was good, very good. And then I said I was going to put it on the blog. But seconds later I started wondering if I should. Its not that its overly personal. Its not embarassing. Its just too... special. See, I love what I wrote. This does not normally happen till several days or weeks have passed and I re-read my creation. Even then, I find plenty of things I would change about any given piece. But this time, the story line is perfect. So instead, I’m going to show it to my mom, one of my best literary critics. Then perhaps a few other friends who will gently critique it. And then I’m going to see where God takes it. I might submit it to a magazine for publishment, or I might sit on it and consider it the first short story for my book. You know, the one which I will write but may never publish. That’s the one.

The story I wrote yesterday is probably the best thing I did all day. No - it was the best thing I did all day. Yesterday was just not a good day. And I’m not going to tell you all the reasons why I feel that way, because really, I don’t so much want all of you to know the million ways I failed at EVERYTHING all in one day. But suffice it to say, the story came out of some humbling moments.

Most often, when I write I wonder if it will make any sense whatsoever to the people who read it. Sometimes stuff sounds a lot better in my head than it reads on paper. And I wonder how much information I should give them as opposed to how much I should let their imagination fill in. Do I describe the hospital room or do I just let them picture one on their own? It’s a challenge not to flesh everything out, but to leave stuff to the imagination. And its always very possible the stuff I write may not strike a chord with my readers. This blog has been my challenge that way. To think more about the people reading and what they will think or feel when they check this site. To think less about them getting the images right - the meanings right. To let go of the idea that when they read a story they may picture something entirely different from what I’m picturing. And that’s okay.

That thing I wrote yesterday, what I love about it is that I wrote it just for me. It was a story in my heart and one that made me cry. Much like a song I wrote recently - its something that is really mostly for my benefit. At least for now. If someday it makes its way to others, then I pray the impact is even just a small fraction as wonderful as what it has been for me.

Some of you will get to the end of this one and say “Wow. She’s really run out of material! Now she’s writing about writing.” And while I’ll agree that it seems a little narcissistic, I will also say that writing is a huge part of my life. I don’t do this blog to tell you wonderful I am and how I have learned all these valuable lessons. I don’t write about my daughter to brag about her, even though I think she’s pretty cool. I don’t even tell you stories hoping to teach you anything. I just write. Sometimes it works. Sometimes, honestly, it doesn’t. Sometimes I should just shut up. But this blog is my outlet and my practice. Its where I vent and entertain and connect to others. I appreciate so much you who have read my little musings and have made encouraging comments. You cannot know how much that means to me and how it has allowed me to continue something I truly love. I’m excited to see where your encouragement leads. And I am so thankful for your kindness. Its not always easy to put myself out there. But you have made it a true thing of blessing.