I’m momentarily speechless.
Actually, the truth is I’m momentarily self-conscious. Mostly, I write for me, and try to give little thought to an actual audience or readership, afraid of ego stepping in, of sounding writerly, or worse, like a pompous ass. I write to see what I really think and feel because I don’t always know until it comes out my fingertips.
This week some actual flesh and blood people touched my actual fingertips and said things that could turn my writerish head, wonderful touching things that made me cry in a good way. Thank youse, all of youse.
Now the temptation to write “to” things is pretty overwhelming and I don’t want to do that. It’s overwhelming to know that my words can touch someone, make them laugh, be a comfort or an inspiration, but then, knowing, the trick is to just let go and continue doing what’s been working, taking the actions and letting go of the results.
Easier said than done, but that’s my intention. I needed to get that out of the way so I could write this.
