Today I experienced privileged conversation. We are not a secret enclave set out to dominate and rule the world. Writers have better things to do, but don’t forget, we are an insular breed. Still, we find a way to open doors and windows so we can inspire and be inspired, impossibly. Creatives of similar minds gravitate to this place. Privileged because we “get it” and we probably live in a world where our spouses and children, our family tree, our bosses and everyone in between just totally does not get it.
When the internet was new to me, I explored everything I had a passion for–things that swept me away, things that elevated and saved me. I only knew what my soul stood up and responded to, what my writers mind reacted to and appreciated, recognized lines I wish I had written in the books written by Michael Moorcock, for one. He and Stephen King (and Iron Maiden) had the earliest impact on my writers mind.
By fate I came to a place that challenged me to write in the format of six sentences–flash fiction. I come from a background of cathartic writing, often from the hood of a Ford Bronco beneath a moon and alongside the Hudson river. Looking back I can see how far I’ve come, which doesn’t mean “I OWN.” It simply means I see the growth and want it to continue. By chance, fate, fortune, by the Universe’s manipulations, call it what you will, I landed on a page where my primordial, cathartic words were seen and I was asked to come, to be, to participate in a House of Writers. True to form, I gave a thousand and one excuses why I could not come. I was summoned, and despite myself, I went to meet strangers at a secluded chalet in the shaded woods of North Carolina. It was the best thing I ever did for my writing life and for my spirit. I wish grateful thoughts were dollars so my writing friends could be millionaires because they deserve it. Later, we came together by the ocean, and I was reacquainted with myself and this Writing Thing that demands my care and attention. My love for words and for those writing friends only grows.
Today I focus on the words “privileged conversation” because sharing the foundations of writing is important to me. I was privileged to listen to authors sharing their origins, their interests, and what our future writings will be. What I focus on is not so much the authors that inspired them. Instead I focus on what their passions are driving them towards today. Meeting with these authors and creatives raises the bar. It causes me to examine my work microscopically and challenges me in so many other ways. So. Your hand holds a lantern which lights my way. In my hand holds all soul and passion and destiny. It is my realistic hope that wonderful things are on the way. By my hand, holding yours.
