Writing is a place I’ve been visiting for quite awhile now. I’ve discovered that if you visit often enough you look up one day, and you’re a citizen of writing. I’d have it no other way.
Being a writer simply means one thing: write. What you do with it is up to you. Whether you send it out for publication, keep your work in a drawer, or throw it away, you’re still a writer. It is easy to get trapped in the propaganda quicksand of marketing and making money and the quest for fame. And if you do become famous and make lots of money, what, in the long run, would that mean? In the long run, not a damn thing. Because in the long run you’ll be gone, but your writing won’t. And that there’s some good news.
I have a wide-ranging relationship with writing. Sometimes my words become journal entries, poems, short stories, books, memoir, essays. And of course there are the blog pieces, many of them op-ed in nature as they take some to task, put folks on the spot. Oh well…
Now I’ve been on my own for a long time now, since I was 16 to be exact. That’s forty years and counting. I think people who find themselves without family find places of refuge, some healthy some not. God knows I sought refuge in some unhealthy places. But there were some healthy places of refuge too: writing, reading, music and the sanctuary of nature.
It’s nice being a citizen of writing, of reading, of music, nature, life.
My thought for you, my dear reader? Remember to live. You are a citizen of life, and maybe writing too.