Hey folks. I want to take a minute out of our regularly scheduled programming of TV and snark to be real for a minute.
Writing is like folding oragami. Your innermost thoughts are the paper. The fancy kind, vibrant and pattered on the top, exposed face, but a soft, gentle color underneath. You fold and fold and hope that at the end you’ll have something that will delight and impress. But until the very last step, you don’t know if the crane you see in your mind’s eye. You might have to stand in front of the class and present your fancy paper creased into an unrecognizable, crumpled mess.
Exposing the raw seams to other people is hard. It’s making yourself vulnerable, letting the people you’re closest to– whose opinions matter the most– see who you really are. I’ve never done it before now. Sending a draft of a piece, or even hitting “Publish” on these posts, is a trepidatious act….
But I know that this is the time to do or die. And you have been so kind, supportive, and loving, that I am encouraged to continue. I can’t say enough how grateful I am for all of you. Thank you for helping me grow.