Why do I write?

Writing can be frustrating… too many re-writes… too many rejections…. too scary putting myself out there like that.

But every once in a while, you remember why you do it. One day, as I was waiting in the checkout line at my local grocery store- held up by a customer who needed something special from a manager- we started talking.

I was wearing one of my many old breast cancer related tee shirts and the cashier asked me if I was a survivor. When I affirmed that I was, she told me she was, too.

I told her I had something for her and the next time I needed groceries, I took her a copy or my book Reconstructing Hope on breast cancer.

Fast forward a couple days more and I ran out of something and made a run to the store only to find myself enveloped in a giant hug. She was almost finished with the book and loved it. She is planning to pass it on when she finishes.

It’s those experiences that make it all worthwhile… just the idea that our words can impact the life of another.

That’s why I write.

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The tree of life

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Stretching my comfort zone