It's been a week without blogging and it feels good... but as I used to say on my old blog: through a writer's eyes, the world is a tale to be told...
And I'm a writer, no question about it.
So I need to write.
Maybe not every day, but I need to write.
I've been thinking a lot about the reach of writing. I'd like to write a book. The thing is, I already have a book. Here. On this blog. Hundreds of posts would certainly add up to hundreds of pages... and sure, it's written in daily format... the process mapped out day by day... but that was kind of the point.
And what do I do? Seek out an agent to help me get this work to a publisher? Say, "Here is my life, all tied up with lessons on grief and loss and living. Help me throw it out into the world," and cross my fingers?
So many people are reading the blog. So many new people still join the ranks of readers all the time. They whisper it to me when they see me for that fleeting moment, as I go about my day in the Lehigh Valley. They email it to me. They search me on Facebook to send me a private message. "I'm reading."
Thank you for reading... and thank you for telling me. I know you want to know how the story ends. I won't stop writing.
I've written children's books, poetry, short works of fiction, novels, research studies, and articles... I have a collection of literary works just waiting in the wings... most of which need to be re-done due to how long ago they were written... but THIS... all the writing here on this blog is what I need to say most right now.
Perhaps one day soon a new blog will exist as my identity as the cat widow fizzles out to make way for new things...but this one will always have a place. And maybe, just maybe, that place is not limited to the world wide web.