I am embarking on my long-delayed vocation as a writer.
I am not engaged in it full-time yet–have to finish some important work for People of Faith for Equality in Virginia (POFEV), and deal with another big project in my life–but I am committed to writing regularly. In fact, I have pledged to write daily.
One vehicle I have chosen is every day to offer a few thoughts on my Facebook page–spiritual or poetic or even issue-oriented (but not related to my work for POFEV)–as a form of accountability. It is one sure way to make sure I do what I say I am going to do.
Yesterday, I dropped the ball–visiting my daughter Robin and husband Christopher in Brooklyn (and having great conversation with her after he went to work), and then taking the Long Island Railroad to Yaphank (what a name!) to spend several days with daughter Meg and her family, husband Kevin and daughters Juna and Annie–and wrote nothing.
This is not a confession so much as an opportunity to say why I am writing daily (almost) on Facebook.
I do not intend any of the short pieces to be final and complete–some might actually become polished poems or maybe the start of a longer essay or spiritual reflection. But for now, they are ways for me to record some thoughts–to notice what is going on and to write it down, which is, according Anne Lamott, what writers do.
Whatever, the key to writing is to write. A writer writes. I am a writer who writes.