I had a great thought going. And then, I hit something and it went… Somewhere… So, here I go again…
Its been forever since I written anything on here. Well, not forever, but close enough… And, shame on me, I know.
I could pen a laundry list of reasons, or excuses, whichever you prefer to call them; about why I haven’t been blogging my writing.
I just, simply, “let life happen.” Aaaannnnddd, there it is! That blank stare. Or the dog head title, or the thumbs up… Maybe.
True enough, I did have another baby… No, no, make that TWO babies, who are now age three and one…
I did, however manage to write a few new things and read them in my first ever Alumni reading at my alma mater, Lindenwood Universtiy.
(Yay! Score one for the Mama!); and I have returned to home-schooling, and at a co-op no less. Life does happen, continuously.
But, that shouldn’t stall an artist. That should inspire one… But, I didn’t let it inspire me. (Insert here any emotion icon you feel necessary).
Coming back into this blog, is like picking up a writing journal and blowing off the dust.
I have missed it and never did I forget it. Even if I did nearly forget the user name and password…
I committed writers/artist suicide. I did. But now, I have come back to life, if you will. It is like Jesus, well, not exactly like Jesus.
But he did die, and rose again on the third day. So, I too, have died, and am rising again… To live and to write again, what a glorious joy!
I thank God for this gift. This talent. This creative blessing He’s given me. Even though, I foolishly, set it aside, like the foolish servant that buried his talent when the
master told him to do something with it.
Haven’t we all been there? Done that? Put down the paint brush, the violin, the pen… But isn’t that… Death? I think so.
Any athlete, singer, dancer, painter, writer, actress, so on and so on… Would agree that to stop, is to die. I have stopped. I have died. And the worst part is that I
did it to myself! SMH… Dont’ we do that to people when we see them literally killing themselves with drugs or something?
But, what do we do when we see someone killing themselves by… Stopping?
For us writers, published and not. Writing is like breathing. It is how we feel alive. It is how we make it in this world. It is how we cope. It is how we contribute. It is how we be us.
And to stop is to die.
When Maya Angelou passed away I was more than sadden by her death. I was sadden that I would never ever get to meet her. To possibly talk to her. To have her sign a book, possibly
have her take a picture with me so I can prove it by posting it on Facebook! HA! But, I was also sadden by the fact that I had stopped writing. Not dreaming about it. But just,
literally stopped DOING it. Her death though, made me want to be a better writer. I mean, you know, like to be REALLY good.
There are so many writers out there now, “making it.” But, are they really “making it” in the right way? I mean like, writing the good stuff and leaving behind good work
like “Of Mice and Men,” “The Bluest Eye” ( Toni Morrison), and “I Know Why Cage Birds Sing”, the late and great Maya Angelou.
It is time, for us writers to pen the GOOD stuff again. Not the loose and fast, I got published stuff. True, I do have a young adult book floating around in my head, but…
I want to write good and contribute to literature, pieces that’s going to stand the test of time, and be classical. Not twaddle. Not faddish. And, then the next time I stop, it will be because
I did, truly, and physically… Died. Not, just because I stopped. Because, to stop is to die while still being alive, and that is the worse type of death.