The Writing

Some days its everything. Even when its nothing, its something. Its the strangest thing. At times consuming. Other times undermining. When I’m writing daily, consistently, productively I feel healthy. Calm. Good.

When I don’t write, whether its due to procrastination or frustration, I feel almost ill. Guilty. Angry.

A writer friend recently hung up her towel. Retired. She was a young mother. She didn’t feel like she was giving enough to family, not the quality part of her. The quality part went to writing and that wasn’t fair, she thought. The best part of her should go to her husband and children, thus the notice to her editor and publisher that she was done.

I fantasize at times of doing the same. The nights when I’m content just being mom, cooking dinner. Those nights I wish I had nothing else to do but cook and clean and tend to my family. It’d be easier to not wrestle with the devil in my head. To not have a heart on fire.

But talking to fellow author and friend Megan Crane (also writing for Presents as Caitlin Crews) about this, she made me realize that the writing is a stabilizing thing. The writing brings order to the chaos. And its true. I’m filled with emotions and stories and layers. If I didn’t get them out, shape them into something solid and creatively good, I’d probably be insane.

God knows I’m already a little crazy. But a little crazy is better than a whole lot crazy.

And so I write. Which is what I’ve been doing every day these past couple weeks and it feels good. I feel good. And that’s enough.

To work.  To write. To build a new world, one where love and hope reigns.

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