“Don’t be ‘a writer’. Be writing.”
— William Faulkner
This is where my blog URL comes from. It also echoes my father’s repeated advice when I said “I want to be a writer.”
Hence the blog’s title: “Writers write, Rach.”
I set up a blog a long time ago, that I think I wrote one post in. And it was one of those “I’ll write about wanting to write.” This one is going to be like that, too. But there will be more. I am full up of ideas and words. I can write whole essays in my head, argue eruditely on HuffPo and be pithy and clever on Facebook. Time to take the essays out of my head, expand them from brief arguments and witty comments, and put them in (digital) print.
What has stopped me in the from moving on is fear–of failure, mostly. I’m a perfectionist, which is an awesome quality in an editor, but not necessarily in a writer. I realize, though, I have to produce and then separate the wheat from the chaff later. I was looking for the Faulkner quote today–to get it right when I added it–and I found another quote that might be a new favorite: “A writer must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid.” Well–Bill–I’ll heed that advice. It is the basest of all things, and it is the thing that prevents most of us doing what we really love. So, I’ve learned and I’m kicking fear to the curb. I’m writing. And I’m not going to stop any time soon.
I don’t know that there will be any one theme to my writing. I imagine I’ll write a lot about politics, what happens at work, my kids, etc. I already know what the next post is going to be. It’s still fermenting in my head right now, but you’ll just have to come back and see when it’s ready for public consumption.
Welcome. I hope you’ll come back.
I read your letter to Colin, and it brought back thoughts that I had of my sweet baby boy, Jamison Jude, he was born with critical aortic valve stenosis, and lived 28 days in the NICU. I have some of those same thoughts, wondering about questions we didn’t ask, so sad that he never knew life outside of the hospital, wondering where this heart defect came from (no one else in our family had something like this), being amazed at how beautiful he was, he was perfect on the outside,( too bad his little heart didn’t work like it needed to). Thanks for sharing and reminding me that I am not alone. I am so sorry for your loss and your pain.
Oh, and I wanted to say your Colin is beautiful, and when Austin gets that rocket built and that potion prepared, I will be on board:). Until then, dreaming of heaven and the sweet babies that have beat us there:)
Thank you so much, Rochelle. I am glad that I reminded you that you are not alone. It is so easy to feel that way. We have our online communities and maybe support groups. But our day-to-day, at work or school or in the grocery store, you can feel very alone. I am sorry that you had to lose your Jamison to CHD as well. Peace be with you. Hugs.