Recently, I had the pleasure of attending a
writing conference. By pleasure, I mean there was crying and teeth-gnashing and
last minute doubts, even as I sat in the car in the parking lot deciding
whether or not to go in the building. In the end, I went in, late, of course.
The first panel already underway (the early bird panel I SIGNED UP FOR), I
checked in and received my name tag and materials for other sessions. I vomited
apologies on the woman checking me in. She smiled and reassured me, the smile
genuine. Eventually I blurted, "Today's two years since my mom died."
The genuine smile morphed into genuine sympathy.
She stepped out from behind the table and hugged me. My throat clogged, and my
vision blurred, but I accepted the hug with mumbled thanks before darting into
the first session.
I spent the day talking to like-minded writers,
listening to fantastic panelists, and learning more about social media.
Evidently, two years between blog posts is too long. My only real
defense is that every time I opened my blog, I saw my last post which was
written about sitting in the hospital with my mom before she died.
But it's been two years now, and my mom always
supported my writing. She'd be excited to know I have one published novel, two
in edits, and four more first-draft manuscripts completed.
So I'm forging ahead with my blog. I won't say
I'm picking up where I left off. I won't subject anyone to two years' worth
of my rambling thoughts all at once. I'm starting here and moving forward.
Sometimes, I think the best we can do is stop trying to make up for lost time,
and learn from it, instead.
Capture today.
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