The Writing Parent – articles, motivation, humor, links

I remember the days of starting again. The day I picked up my pen and gave it good whirl, spinning out words that delighted me enough to keep them secret from prying eyes. I didn’t want to share my prose, the deepest thoughts written from my heart, because they were put to rest inside one of my many journals. They were private, but the sheer eloquence of each one brought me back to them over and over, reading in wonder that I had written them. I was such a poetic writer, I thought each time I read the journals. I wrote because I wanted to, because I wanted to express myself, my new love, my feelings about my past. And I wrote it all in the middle of the kind of chaos two toddlers could bring. continued…