So this is the day. The day I begin.
The day I push down the 'you're going to fail' voices and I
plunge into the abyss.
I will write.
I will write every free moment
of every day until my words begin to take some kind of shape and rise
up as the art I know they are able to be, that I am capable of
making. I am going to push and twist and bend and cut and trash and
start over until the writing I felt stirring in me years and years
ago is back and is able to be released. Hundreds of millions of
words, words of fear and shame, power and anger, redemption and
achievement, they've all been there, buried under the speeding bullet
of time.
Always another grab for my time, the jobs, the kids, the
failed relationships with the wrong men, and never a moment to
release these tumultuous words kicking around my soul like the babies
kicked the womb long ago: throbbing, strumming, humming, and they'll
flow out like the lyrics from my vinyls, stirring the souls and minds
of others who will flock to my writings and drink from them. I'm opening doors within that have been sealed for far too long and rip off the
bandages for the sweet ache of release as I relive the bad with the
good and I tell the story of my evolution, the piece of humanity that
is me.
I'm packing my bags for the journey: a carry-on of
writing tools, select traveling mates of editor-friends, and trunks
packed with hope, fervor, strength, courage, a bit of humor, and one
of those adapter thingies so I can plug into other cultures.
The
voyage begins now!
Go!
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