These past few days have been really good for me.
My agent, Steve Fraser, was here. He gave a terrific talk on Wednesday night to a crowd who sat on the floor and up the stairways and all around the room (INCLUDING sitting in chairs!). He spoke of joy. It was lovely and inspirational.
I’ve been thinking of my writing life. What I want to do with it. How I need to change things or not change them. What is important to me.
And there has been this other stuff.
And the other stuff has gotten into my very heart and stabbed at it with ice picks and as the stabbing has gotten worse, I’ve begun to build this wall around me and how I feel.
Can a writer do that?
Well, yes, they can. I have.
Should they?
I’ve got all these new, weightier things to think about. Personal things.
Most times I don’t want to think about them. Feel them. Hurt from them.
But
but the deal is, all this stuff, will, in the end, influence my writing.
So I have to be available emotionally. Not just for the good of my life and the people in my life, but otherwise, what good am I as a writer?
We write Truth. That means we have to be willing to feel all things icky and hard and gross and awful and happy and joyous and amazing because our readers need that Truth.
As I have peered sideways at things going on lately, even when I see I don’t like me very much as I gaze on these weightier things, I can see that this has been a good few days.
Sad. Hard.
Emotional.
Yes. Good.
Throwing Up Words 