Grateful To Write


A dear friend inspired me to count my blessings every time 11:11 passed. I glanced at my phone today and caught the time. Four ones in a row as the late morning sun summited the clouds.

A somewhat shy morsel of gratitude arrived at the forefront of my thoughts.

I am grateful to be a writer. That after all those years of confusion, I have returned to my writerly roots. I am here now. I may be better at writing and composing and dreaming than I am at putting my work out there (trust me, this is just as important if you want an audience), but I’ve made it this far. I’m writing or revising. Every day.

When I get started, I can roll. Unless I’m stuck in the throes of editing, and then I go as slowly as possible. It’s painful and hard and distractions never quit. Like Stephen King said: to write is human, to edit is divine.

I wrote this poem yesterday. I’m proud of it because it uncovered something real for me, because one comment gave me all of the praise that I needed, and because I enjoyed reading it and a few other people enjoyed reading it, too.

What’s weird about blogging is the instant gratification of an audience on the other side of one click. Blogging gets you in front of people. And I believe that we control the size of our audience, depending on our comfort level with baring our thoughts and sometimes our lives to the internet.

At this point in my life, I’ve discovered that it only takes one comment, one note, one “like” to supply the encouragement I need to keep going. If I helped someone through a tough night because I gathered the will to hit “publish” on my somewhat random thought of the day, then I’ve done something worth doing. A massive waves starts with a tiny ripple.

So here I am, a hobby blogger (is that a term yet?) obsessed with writing fiction, who spent Sunday afternoon composing a poem and Sunday night reading a literary journal. I fall head over heels for sentences and stories. Writing fulfills my mind in the ways that yoga fulfills my body and family fulfills my spirit.

I am a writer. And I am grateful to know it.

1 Comment

  1. You don’t even know how much I relate to this! “Writer” has been a part of my identity for a long time now. And with every day that I get older, it’s become something I cling to more and more. I’m sure having a kid was a big factor in this, because I don’t/didn’t want to lose all of myself, as amazing as parenthood is. I still have to write. It’s an addiction (healthy, hopefully!) and something that gives me such great satisfaction. (I know what you mean about the audience. Having your words make an impact – any kind of impact! – on people is kind of f-ing magical). xox


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