Sometimes I sit down at my desk to make a post, and I think I know what I want to write about. So I’m typing away on the computer and what I started with is getting farther and farther down the page as I continue to write and hit enter. Finally I realize I must have had something else on my mind. And there it is–buried treasure.
In an essay entitled, “The Company of Women,” from her book, Living Out Loud, Anna Quindlen writes,
“Most of the time we talked and talked, not in a linear way, but as though we were digging for buried treasure.”
She describes her conversations with women as “free-floating attempts to make order out of daily life.”
That’s also what writing does for me and what I’m trying to do with this blog–make order out of daily life. And so often, just by writing–just by starting to write without even knowing what letters I will hit on the keyboard–there it is.
“It’s hard to tell somebody what you mean to say. And that’s an idea that I’m obsessed with. It’s why I write. It’s why everybody writes.”
--Jonathan Safran Foer
What lovely posts you’ve written. I’m so glad I found your blog.
Thanks, Linda. And thanks for letting me know you were here. Hope you’ll be back.
–cynthia
So true! So often, writing seems to take on a life of its own. Great blog!
Thanks, Deedee.
Funny – I just said a similar thing on your later blog *but not as eloquently!
That’s such a great description. I also love the quote you just posted about obituaries. Thanks so much for stopping by my blog!
Jennifer and Lu-
Thanks for adding to the conversation!
–cynthia