"Nobody's ever going to hire you," she says, "because you just say it as you see it for all the world to see."
"Please don't write about this," the elected official asks "we'd like to handle the situation quietly."
"Why don't you write more about Winston, The Little Gay Dog?" he snaps over coffee.
"Why write about the past? It's over!" I'm told when I tell old stories.
"Tell Micheal we loved his Father's Day message to his Dad," my Mom shares an email she receives, " Mentions Billy Herrin and Danny Sims! I printed it out to share with all the guys."
"Don't ever write about me again," Mom warns on another occasion.
Every day I receive emails and private messages either expressing gratitude or telling me how happy they are I'm going to Hell!
I'm pretty immune to it all.
I figure I'd had my say and it's someone else's turn.
It's very rare I comment again on whatever it is I've already had my say about.
Every day the words find me or I find them ... new stories are born or old ones come back to life ... real people become characters and imagined characters become people ... I open up my heart and let you walk right in.
It started when I was a "Professional Christian" ... paid to love when I asked everyone else to do it for free ... and apparently took it far too serious ... trying to authentically be me ... not hiding or changing it.
Like everyone else, I've done good and bad ... been a Sinner and a Saint ... created some Miracles and my fair share of disasters ... told Glorious truths and some really excellent lies ... lost love and thankfully now have the best I've ever known.
I try to not hide from any of it.
Sharing is a great way to not hide.
It's a better way of keeping me honest ... with myself.
