I’m not the most courageous writer. That title belongs to the person who digs so deep that it feels there’s nothing left to say on a very difficult topic. (Except there is always something left to say=whatever you have to say.) Or perhaps to the writer who struggles with addiction, but still writes. Or with war, famine, oppression—but still writes. We have many writers to admire today: Ta-Nehisi Coates, Roxanne Gay, Malala, Sue William Silverman, the list goes on.
The question should be, what must you be courageous about, in order to write? For me, it’s health. I am getting elderly, and that has its own yardsticks for courage, but for years I have struggled with nerve and muscle damage and the resulting severe arthritis. To that in recent years has been added the family scourge, Charcot-Marie-Tooth syndrome, with shakes and contractions so severe that at times my body looks like a pretzel. There are days I can’t walk, much less write.
Yet the cloud always lifts, eventually, and I am able to hobble to my writing desk and communicate with all you lovelies.
My point is, we all have something we must overcome in order to do what we want, what we crave. Let’s support each other along the way.
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