Redemption Song

Yesterday I wanted to post a question for myself, it went along the lines of "is it better to write slowly and get there eventually or to pound them (the words) out and get there more quickly."

I stayed stuck on the matter for a while. Last night, the answer came and found me in an article from The Atlantic. It encouraged the labor, the long labor, of wordsmithing.

I have a song I discovered in a friend's collection that has been keeping me regular company for nearly a week now. The song has crawled into my consciousness and seems to be girding my spine and reinforcing my stomach, for I've found all kinds of courage I thought I lacked.

I started speaking up for myself yesterday, for my dreams. Yes, it's unrealistic to want to be a writer (of all things, a writer?) but real life is painful enough without abandoning your dreams in the process. Dear Reader, do you know what happens when dreams are ignored? They do not shrivel up like a raisin in the sun. No, they become the deepest, longest, most persistent nightmares imaginable. Or worse, they are unimaginable because the force it requires to ignore a dream, or to set it aside, is the full force of your being.

That's a lot of force. It is more force than the majority of people encounter, I am constantly reminded that a great many people never have to call on their basic will to live in order to stay alive. I find that, in itself, fascinating.

So, I'm working my dream. working, working, working. The long version of work, the type that redeems a soul rocked too hard by nightmares.

Love,

Camille