Every Friday morning, for 45 precious minutes, between Zumba and preschool pickup, I sit alone with my laptop in the cafe of the local community center, and I determine to write.
It goes something like this: I check Facebook and Twitter, to calm my mind. Then I follow a few links, and read a few posts, "to prime the pump," I tell myself.
And before I know it, I'm too involved in other people's stories to tell my own.
This is a hazard, to be sure, one rightfully guarded against. It's why many bloggers I respect create content first thing in the morning, before checking email or social media or their to-do list.
But this morning, it hit me: Commenting on the blogs that I'm reading, sending emails to people I love, even posting on Facebook, this is writing too. It's not creating content for the masses. This is reaction, not action. But it's still using my words to love well. It's sharing the journey and whispering encouragement and saying, "Me too!" It's writing with laser-directed focus on others, not me.
I would do well to remember this. It is good to create something from nothing. Writing takes work and practice and discipline, and I am trying to get better at that.
But using my time and words to applaud the gift in others, that is writing too.
Disclaimer: I am not writing this to get you to leave me a comment. Rather, I am hoping it frees you to spend your words lavishly this weekend, loving others. If writing is your gift, give it away.
