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Why I Write

I was on one of my writing groups today and ran across a post where the writers were explaining why they became writers. It got me thinking 🤔, I used to love to write, years ago. I had forgotten that.

Now, I’m doing more writing than proofreading, and while doing research to improve my social media ads that I’m writing, I’ve started to remember my long lost love of writing. Ads aren’t the most exciting thing in the world to write, but I’m finding I do still enjoy the process of writing. The researching for background information, trends and other details about my subject and putting that together in a cohesive fashion that will compel my readers to open my ad.

Anyway, I’ve gotten off topic a bit so we’ll swing this back to center. I had forgotten that my first love was writing. It’s a case where life definitely got in the way. I remember why I knew I wanted to be a writer. It goes back to my first year in college and my English Literature 101 Professor.

We all had to write a creative writing paper. I don’t remember the specific requirements for it, but I wrote about fear being a box/cage. When my professor was handing back our graded papers (which I got a “B” on) she asked to see me after class. Of course, I’m sitting there worrying thinking OMG did I do something wrong?

So, I went to see the professor after class and she said I wanted to speak to you about your paper. A hundred things started racing through my mind. What she said came is a bit of a surprise. She said, “Debbie, I was very moved by your paper. Have you thought about a career in writing?” And of course, I kind of just looked at her, and managed to stammer out of no, I hadn’t really, not seriously anyway. She then told me something that made a mark. She said, “Debbie, you have true talent it would be a shame to waste it.” So that is the time in my life when I knew I wanted to write.

When your words can reach out and move a stranger, it makes all the difference to the writer. Of course, we rarely see that end of things, and validation is hard to come by. Practical matters got in my way, and I got busy worrying about keeping food on the table. So my dreams are writing went by the wayside.

I have to say I’m very grateful for the opportunity to get the rusty writing gears moving again. It’s a bit of a struggle, and it hasn’t come easily. It’s like any unused muscle, it’s going to be sore, and it’s going to be resistant, but eventually it stretches. I have no doubt in my mind that my gift will come back. All I can do is keep stretching it, keep writing, and touch whoever I can.

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