Writing is not LIFE, but I think that sometimes
it can be a way back to life.
Sometimes I lose my way. I find myself in both a creative and general funk. My heart and body ache.
So, I turn to my husband, who is my best friend. I turn to chocolate. I turn to cheese. I turn to TV and movies.
But I also turn to words, to stories, to books – other people’s and my own. Someone else’s novel takes me out of myself, gives me some perspective or just entertains me for a while so that when I return to myself I feel just a bit better. My hand scratches pen across paper – the physical act of writing grounds me – and words flow, maybe ones that describe how I feel, maybe ones that tell a story about dragons or monsters under the bed or a little girl who conquers her fears.
Words are like scattered bread crumbs forming a trail for me to follow, to find my way back. Words always save me.