Heroic Moments

The Successful Writer

While young, I often dreamed of being a writer. No, not just a writer; an Author. Stories and poems came as easily as breath. I couldn't imagine a life without words. And I couldn't imagine in those tender years the possibility of failure.

Later I learned writing is a talent to be nurtured, a skill to be honed. And I found I hadn't the self-discipline for the work involved. I've had friends read a letter or a blog entry and ask if I've written professionally. I rarely reply to these queries - I'm too ashamed. Because, of course, other than school newspapers, my "work" has never been published. And that's the only reason one would write, right? To be a success?

Upon further reflection I realized the shame wasn't there because I was a "failure", but because I had abandoned my dream. Recent events have conspired to force me to reconsider that abandonment. My grandma's struggle with dementia; my father's misplaced raging; my own full family life. I've worried that the anti-depressant I must take has robbed me of my creativity: I feel a need to dispel that notion. A growing idea that I should be doing something for myself even as I care for others has been nagging at me.

Today I watched a re-airing of Raymond Arroyo's interview with Ron Hansen. I am not familiar with Mr. Hansen's work, though I soon will be. Budding writers asked him for advice. He said keep writing. Read all you can and write. Anything. Letters, poems... just, write. WRITE. The only way to be a success is to do it.

So. My prayer is that you are seeing the beginning (again) work of a successful writer. Thanks for sticking with me.