When I was little, I would get lots of diaries and journals for gifts from my parents. It made sense to them: the teachers said their daughter was a good writer, and therefore she must enjoy writing and then we’ll give her these blank notebooks that she can turn into stories and tey can sell as books and make cash money and retire early off their daughter’s genius. Ka-ching! But most of those journals my parents got me, today they sit in their attic only filled in about 10 pages deep, with the last entry starting “Dear diary, Sorry I haven’t written in a while, but…”
My parents are still working.
True story: When I was accepted into seminary, my letter included an addendum informing me of the writing center at VTS, and that I was ‘strongly encouraged’ to seek help from it.
It’s hard to justify coming back into blogging when you could never really justify why you were in it to begin with. Let me try this: I’ve written to be seen and heard before and I’ve also found joy in those times and I’m not sure if it’s correlation or causation. And if it is causation, I’m not sure which is causing which.
So I’m back. Humbly, but not too humbly. Confidently, but not too confidently. Caution be damned.