Find Something to Die For. And Then Live For It.

Had a killer post planned for today.  All outlined in my head.  Woke up early to get ‘er done.  And then I went out to fetch the paper and everything changed.

Life is like that sometimes.

It wasn’t a headline that rocked me this morning.  It was a quote inserted above the headline that read, “I feel it draws on everything I’ve ever been or done or learned.  In this role, I get to draw on everything that I am.”  Below the headline, which isn’t relevant here, was a picture of man speaking into a microphone, with a solemn look on his face, as if he was telling his children about life.

And I thought, what a lucky man indeed.

Maybe it’s because I’m old, but this hit me like a ton of rejection slips.  Because that’s how I feel about writing.  Some days I hate it, but most days it makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else — avocation-wise… my wife and son always remind me that I’m very much alive — can.  It makes me remember the dark days of the past few years during which I felt I had nothing to write for.  A feeling that is a close second to nothing to live for in terms of weight on the soul.

And so I’m back at it.  Writing two books about writing.  Writing another novel.  And writing this blog, which if you’ve been here a while — with the exception of this morning’s post — is really about much more than me.  As a blog should be.  I tell people this is an instructional writing resource, because — again, with the exception of this morning’s post — I don’t really want to write about me.  I want to write about you.

That’s a lesson the years have taught.  It’s not about me.  Never has been. Wish I’d have figured that out earlier.

But I digress, back to that newspaper quote.  Writing doesn’t become that significant a part in your life until you begin to take it seriously, to submit yourself to it and be vulnerable to the reality that it’s always bigger than you are.  It demands that you draw on everything you’ve ever been or done or learned.  Everything that you are.

And becomes, in doing so, everything you’ve ever dreamed of being.

Which makes us, as writers, very lucky folks indeed.

3 Comments

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3 Responses to Find Something to Die For. And Then Live For It.

  1. Thanks for the invite, I just got here and already I know I’ll be spending alot of time here. I cannot express how much I feel drawn to writing. All my life I have been wishy washy at everything. I love to do almost everything that has to do with being creative but it never dawned on me to write until I got married to a man who had a story he had been working on in his head. As a supportive wife I told him to write it down on paper after he had told me all about the world he had created. He was uncertain about his own skill level. ( I didn’t think I had any but I thought maybe if I helped him…) So I began to write down bits and peices of his story, and to tell the truth it sucked! But that didn’t matter I was hooked, one day I was just making lunch for my two children when it struck me. It was like my eyes opened up and I could see everything so perfectly. So I sat down and started to write my very first book. I wasn’t sure I was good enough but once I started I just couldn’t stop. Now I am so close to polishing it up to be ready for publishing(once I find one) and I find my self hoping I have the technical things down. To tell the truth I was a very bad english student. I could barely remember what a past particible was, let alone make sure I was using it properly. I started studying up online and looking around for websites to help me learn more. I am willing to do what it takes….Thank you for helpnig me do just that.

    • Hi — thanks for visiting, thanks for subscribing, really glad to have you here. And for already being active. You are very passionate about your writing and, it seems, about learning and moving forward. Something that we all must do. I hope to continue to provide value to you… and yes, you are already like Stephen King… now just add about 60 books and 49 movies, and you’re there! Seriously, I like him, too, but lately he seems a bit out of touch.

      Thanks again, hope to hear more from you!

      Larry

  2. Katherine Adams

    Well said. Thanks for the reminder; I need to toss my fear of vulnerability out the window. Today. It’s as if some writers (I’m raising my hand here) are preparing for a musical … “me me me me.”

    Your more personal views are instructional as well as the step-by-step, “Here’s a great suggestion for polishing off…”

    Great blog; great advice — really looking forward to all the new literary efforts.

    Katherine Adams