Sunday, September 16, 2018

now that I’m not a writer

It’s been a long time since I felt like a writer. Many books and pieces and blog posts later, after finally feeling comfortable and then embracing the writing side of me, I stopped.

It wasn’t for a particular reason.

I’ve been immersed in different ways and words haven’t been as necessary to keep me balanced, to express my feelings, there wasn’t a need to make as definitive statement to the world, and I guess, to me, that I had things to say.

Having said that, I’ve been talking and thinking about not writing and it seems all that energy about not doing it perhaps means that I should be writing again. So many interesting things are going on: cool projects, awesome people, frustrating politics, kids growing up and out, parents needing taking care of, messy fights for what I believe in, figuring out what’s next . . . the usual stuff.

So I thought I’d come back here, to untangle the complicated strands that are my day to day and share some of them out into the world.

Words matter. Getting them out and letting them go is such a practice. Deep breath. Here I go.