I am a writer simply because I write. Of course, that doesn't make me a prolific writer or even a readable one, but I have enough experience with those who read my writing to know that sometimes my words strike a chord. I have enjoyed a lifelong love affair with words on the printed page and I revel in the company of people who are precise with language. Throughout my life books have instructed me, shaped me, comforted me and without embellishment, contributed significantly to my healing.
Recently I read a memoir that was described by the author as being "creative non-fiction." She didn't offer a Webster's definition of the genre but I laughed out loud while reading her book, so I am almost sure she meant, "my life, only dressed up in funnier words." Which aptly describes the way I approach this blog; the exception being, my words sometimes describe my life only dresssed up in words that are more glamourous, chaotic, sarcastic, judgmental, inspirational....fill in the blank.
It feeds my experience of writing, and often my ego, when people tell me they like what I write. As my artistic muse, David Smith, recently addressed in his blog, 1000 Words (shameless plug for David!), the balance of ego and humility is an ongoing and precarious process. But I feel very privileged to be able to swim in the river of life and relate my experiences in words that sometimes resonate. Undoubtedly, I would be a writer even if I had no readers. But the swimming is richer, more meaningful and a hell of a lot mre fun when you jump in the water with me! I am humbled and abundantly grateful for your time, you support and your feedback.
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