I’m not entirely sure why I’m here, blogging that is. I don’t feel I have an especially singular point of view that the world must have in order to function in a fully enlightened manner. However, writing gave me tools, namely fiction, that helped me to survive some really difficult times and grow and thrive through them. What I do know is that this initial creation is an exercise in growing as a writer. After all that writing has done for me, and all the surprising places writing has taken me, I feel I owe my writing at least a brief opportunity to grow, or not, through an exploration of this exercise.
I do need, very much, to thank all of the members of the Worcester Writers Workshop in Massachusetts. They gave me a chance to start writing, a safe framework in which to grow, and a warm, welcoming fellowship of writers to work among each week. It was not only a reason to get up and get out on some of my darkest days, but also a socially acceptable way to vent some very toxic emotions. I shudder to think of what might have been without that release.
Life has relocated me to a new country, but writing is again here to help me integrate, cope and grow. Thanks are also due to the members of the Cambridge Writers Collective in Ontario for again welcoming me, fostering my growth through writing and helping me overcome the metaphoric plateau upon which I had been resting.
As with my writing journals, I have no idea which paths may open before me or where they will take my writing, or me. Some days it will be short stories, other days it may be poetry and there may be days when I just feel the need to write an observation or an essay. I will not restrict myself creatively to only writing but will also surely post when appropriate, photographs, drawings or other creative expressions.
That is as much as I know for now.
I make no promises…