My New York Grandpa was a great writer. We used to ask him why he didn’t publish his work and he’d always say there’s already enough bad books in the world.
My Deerfield Grandpa kept a diary of what he did at work each day and what he ate at each meal. He was a faithful writer.
Sometimes writing is just the scariest thing, especially when you are throwing it out there in a blog. I don’t know exactly where I lie between my Deerfield Grandpa, the faithful but boring writer, and my New York Grandpa, the great writer who thought he wasn’t very good. I just know I have to write.
When you write, you lay out a line of words. The line of words is a miner’s pick, a wood-carver’s gouge, a surgeon’s probe. You yield it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject?. . . You make the path boldly and follow it fearfully. You go where the path leads. At the end of the path, you find a box canyon. You hammer out reports, dispatch bulletins. ~ Annie Dillard
So writing IS scary, but exhilarating too. I’ll just keep being faithful in the small things and we’ll see where it all leads.
Leave a Reply