Why I Love Writers
I remember the day I fell in love with books. It the day, over 30 years ago, I walked into a bookstore at Crossroad Mall in Oklahoma City. It is a bit uncomfortable to admit that this was my first time inside a bookstore. I had grown up on military bases and in a small town. I didn’t have access to bookstores, although I had lived inside libraries for most of my life. I fell in love with the sight of colorful books everywhere. I hadn’t realized until that moment that books were so beautiful. I felt as if I were looking at a big Jelly Belly jar. I wanted to gobble up each shiny book. Each book held secrets and potential. I wanted to unlock each secret. I stood for a moment at the entrance, just taking in the sight of the bookstore. I wanted to remove my shoes to walk on sacred ground.
I had the same feeling in 1991 when I found myself in a room filled with writers. I was in a mentoring program for emerging writers and we met for the first time with our mentor. I was nervous and self-focused as I entered the room. I was certain that everyone else in the room was more skillful and experienced than I. My self-consciousness faded as we started talking. I saw how beautiful each writer was, filled with possibility and secrets. Again, I wanted to unbuckle my shoes.
I love writers because they remind me that what I do is important and sacred. They help me take my creative self seriously. They help me give into my longing to do this holy work.
