Hello, blog world. It has been a while since I have actually taken the time to sit down and write.
That sounds odd since I make my living as a writer – an editor/reporter for a weekly newspaper. Writing for a newspaper is so much more different than doing your own kind of writing. One you have deadlines and specific topics and on the other side, you are the boss.
I have never liked being a boss. My nephews and nieces and family all probably laughed at that statement. There is a difference between being bossy and a boss. (Smile).
It is Dec. 11, the day before we celebrate the homegoing of Caleb. Caleb was a seven year old little boy who I knew through church in LaGrange, Georgia. He died due to brain cancer. In the short months that he was diagnosed and battled the disease, Caleb’s journey touched thousands of lives. (That was evident on the Facebook group that was created in support and to keep people updated.)
Caleb was your typical boy – blonde, blue eyes and such a sweet personality. He loved being outdoors, learning, the Georgia Bulldogs and his family. Pictures are mostly what I have in my mind about Caleb. Our friendship was short. It was in his illness and his death through social media that I got to know his family. But oh what a sweet little difference they made in my life.
One of the biggest lessons I learned from them is to never give up. No matter the trials, the heartache, the missteps, the issues, they kept going. Even when I am sure they wanted to stop.
Now, that lesson has not been one I have applied as of late to my life, in particular with my writing.
Writing for me is like well … Alcohol for an alcoholic. Writing provides for me a respite from the craziness in my head and heart, from the chaos of the world and allows me to put down in black and white what I am thinking. I guess writing is my comfort.
But at the same time, just like excessive drinking can do to an alcoholic, writing can create feelings of discontent, heartache, and a pouring out of things that I would rather not be out.
It is my favorite thing to do, but at the same time, it is the scariest thing for me to do.
Writing beyond the normal news story or Chicken Dinner spotlight puts a writer vulnerable and open.
I thought my life was an open book – but then I started writing again, like I used to, and I realized, that it is not. There may be somethings that I don’t want read.
So, it has been a while. We will just take it one step at a time.