Or it's a lot like prayer and a major addiction.
It's about creating ... doing my best to give something back to those who've given me so much ... friends ... the earth ... the Universe ... God.
Sometimes I've been so arrogant about it I thought my writing could change the world but quickly learned people don't remember most of what they read.
My first book did quite well, received lots of terrific reviews, went through four printings, made the Publisher lots of money so naturally they encouraged me to write a follow-up ... which I did.
It was about my homeless friends and people with AIDS when everybody was scared shitless of the disease.
I learned many things from these wonderful people as they struggled through poverty, disease, discrimination and felt their heroic deeds should be shared to inspire the masses.
But with a title like "Community of the Abandoned" it's no surprise the book tanked, reviews called it "depressing," the Publisher dropped me and I was left to start over as a writer.
But then there's Mrs. Timmins ... from somewhere in Texas ... who wrote me a letter.
I can still see her tiny feeble handwriting in blue ink, on a page ripped out of a "School Composition Notebook."
"My son is addicted to drugs and alcohol. I pray for him every day. I don't know what else to do so I pray. I saw your book and bought it because ... I don't know why. It reminds me of my son. He truly is Abandoned. Thank you for helping me understand that. God's blessings on you and please pray for me and my son."
That was a long time ago but I vividly recall the powerful emotions of reading it.
Decades later Mrs. Timmins very much remains alive though I'm certain she's long dead.
Every day when I sit down to write, sometimes full of purpose and intention, and sometimes lost in the Wilderness, she floats through my mind ... along with others who took the time to say they took something from what I'd written ... and it makes me keep at it ... even when I'd rather be doing other things.
"For we know that all of creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to now (Romans 8:22).
I take that to mean we're all in it together ... you, me and God ... delivering this baby of lives ... and these often insignificant things I write every day are my contribution.
