I love to write. It’s a pleasure I discovered later in life, and even then it was only through the encouragement of a friend. That’s an important part of the picture because, for me, writing is both intensely personal and interpersonal. I write about what moves me or delights me or provokes me, but always with one ear listening from your perspective. The cliché that “writers write” is inarguably true, but I think most writers write so that readers will read. And in my case at least, so that readers will read and respond.
Would I write if every page were to be tossed into the fire, never to be read by another? Yes, but not as much, and certainly not with as much care. Throwing some thoughts down on paper is one thing, but putting my heartbeats, my childhood tears, my soul’s secret questions out there for friends and strangers to read is something altogether different, and you can be damn sure I will take the time to re-read what I’ve written and check my commas and semicolons before I publish, both because you are worth it, and so am I.
What follows is familiar to anyone who has ever published on Medium. “Was it good enough?” “Was it interesting?” “Will anyone even read it?” “Oh God! What if they read it and don’t like it?”
And then the recommends and responses begin, and you tell me how you feel, and you tell me your story, and you and I connect…
