Spring has sprung loose from piles of cruddy snow and roadside grit giving way to the flow of runoff again.
First day of spring is more for me – it commences my 17th year of starting my daily column publishing process.
I let technology push out distribution (at 3AM EDT) while I’m still sleeping – driven by ‘how to manage it all simpler’. Gusta, now 14, has been along most of the way from pup to old dog she’s not walking fast or far these days. My writing has improved considerably. I’ve changed beyond aging 17 years, more purposefulness in my life and in the writing. Less flippant, more thoughtful. Less haste, better polishing …
What’s the same?
I still start my writing day with a morning walk. Still walk Gusta early. I’ve not wavered from this daily morning writing routine. It’s become this integral part of my every morning.
Weather impacts mood, whether bracing wet breeze or bone-chilling cold. What happens to me happens to my columns – sometimes disguised, but never completely hidden. When I’m happy about something or someone, or lonely, or angry or out of sorts with someone – it shows in the writing. I’ve often mulled whether the writing is better when I’m cranky about something or cranky with someone. I suppose I put a sharper point on my spears than on my fluffy clouds …
What have I learned after 16 X 365.25 days = 5,844 columns?
What explains why I keep doing it?
I love it.
I’ve come to love it for a number or reasons – not least of which is feedback I get from readers. By that I don’t mean only the written comments I publish, but also phone calls when I’m blue or comments when I meet readers, having that sense we have so many things in common that a problem, issue or peculiar thing about life resonates. Not with all people, not every day or every issue but enough to validate for me that this work I do is valued by others. And, no doubt, my ego appreciates that.
But the bigger part of it, as I am certain any writer in any genre will confirm for you if you are curious about this, is that pouring ink on a page is a clever recipe of self- flagellation, disembowelment, and mind expansion we would not trade for anything. Which is not to say writing is for everyone or that it should be but rather to explain that writing, which is form of thinking out loud with your inside voice, it a bridge between our sanity and humanity, a jumble inside which pours out in sentences and paragraphs which make sense to many and resonate deeply with some …
Musing began – me being a smart-ass with my daughter Carla – has become an important part of my every day, seeing me through triumphs and disasters, through sweet times and troubles, through romantic adventures and romantic notions that friends and family I’ve lost will stay alive past their end date because I write about them.
Thank you to those who read these Musing columns; to those who’ve offered friendship, support, kindness, critique, debate and comments – your valuable contributions keep my grounded. I always appreciate hearing from you.
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