The thing that keeps me going is my writing. Actually, I take that back, there are other things like Mister Cupcake and Cooper and Mint Milanos but, if I had to pin my existence on any one thing it would be that I string letters and sentences together with the sincere desire to connect with other people.
The first book I read, after having a hard time getting the hang of it, was my father’s suggestion—Mister Popper’s Penguins, and from that moment on I was hooked on words and stories and alternate perspectives. Not that I lived in a dream land—quite the opposite—I lived in a world where I craved to read and “hear” what other people were experiencing. My father was my book supplier. Zora Neale Houston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God. Toni Morrison’s Beloved. John Barth’s The Floating Opera. Margaret Atwood’s Cat’s Eye. I could not get enough of words and stories.
And then I started writing. And I found myself in love with the process of creating and editing and honing. What is it I want to say? What is it I want to give over to the collective. Eventually, I found myself only loving the written word because behind the written word was the person and, so often, that person had thought and felt and experienced things like me.
I think of all of you as gorgeous writers. Your comments and your observations and your drop dead hilarity reveal the wit that only a writer possesses. And I gather it all up, close to my chest and I breathe it in like a fairy. Because that’s what I am here to do.
So, recently, when I had the opportunity to contribute to Spoonful—A Happiness Companion I drooled and submitted and prayed. I want to tell my story, I thought. I want to throw my words onto that canvas if it’s the last thing I do. And I did.
Each issue of Spoonful has a theme and the theme I wrote about was Sweetness. Usually when I write I got through an ebb and flow of a mind-bending process that has the potential to lift me up or drag me down but this piece was immediately like chocolate. I wrote it in one afternoon and immediately felt immersed. It’s called Sweetness Comes To Whisper Your Life Story and it perfectly encapsulates so much of what I’ve ever felt.
And it’s in those moments when I feel a happy face with all the people that have ever sat down to write a word about how they feel, or a sentence about what they never thought they’d reveal and when that happens I feel a sense of belonging that doesn’t come from making small talk at a party or turning myself inside out to fit in to the group I’ve found myself a part of. It only comes back to writing, for me, and the big dream of finding someone else who thinks “I’ve felt that way so many times, I’m glad she was able to put it that way.”
Yours In the Rambling Collective,