It’s funny how sometimes we need outsiders to really show us what we’ve been staring right at for a while. I spent the weekend with old friends in a very new environment. We were all navigating a conference with wide eyes and varied expectations. We heard from what seemed like millions of others in the field and yet it was three people I’ve known the longest whose input helped me see what I’ve been missing and they probably have no idea that’s what they’ve done.
I started writing a year and a half ago. Wait, let me be clear, I started writing so long ago I can barely remember my age. I kept journals, but never very successfully because I always felt like a fraud keeping a journal. You’re not deep, I’d think. You’re not an artist. I’d think. You don’t write poetry or novels. What business do you have keeping a journal? So I’d start and stop over and over again. I have packed and moved countless notebooks that are 3/4 empty and I have recycled even more. The point is, whether it’s in journals or on letters or in essays for class or just scrap paper and napkins that I grab from my nightstand drawer when an idea strikes, I’ve written somewhere and somehow for as long as I’ve been able. Writing is the way I communicate best-even with myself. So I started writing, presumably, at birth. I started this blog only a year and a half ago.
In that year and a half something that I thought I was only writing for three of my sisters and my mother in law has turned into something larger. I have heard from strangers that they read my stories. I have been told my voice speaks to people who need to hear it. I have been given opportunities and shown paths I never thought imaginable through my sweet little blog. These opportunities and avenues of growth have forced me to examine what I’m doing now and where I want to go. I’ll admit I got caught up in all of it. I imagined great things for me and my words- albeit not in any clear way. I had visions of grandeur; always a bit hazy, but visions none the less. I started to think, if I just did this or that a bit differently, I may be capable of great things. I could just never quite identify what the great things would be.
So this weekend I went in search of purpose. I hoped hearing from successful women would give me some idea what my great things should be. Perhaps I’d start a revolution. Perhaps I’d give advice to keep others from stumbling down the same crooked paths as I have. Perhaps I’d entertain the world. I was hoping someone this weekend would show me my way.
You know what I learned from the women (and a few men) at this conference, specifically the two old friends who shared my room and one I found in a ballroom? Amidst all the madness and free gifts and PR spiels, three people spoke to me and here is what I heard: I am a writer. Yes, it’s that simple. In my heart I have known this all along but it took hearing others’ stories and being encouraged by a few to share mine that confirmed what I’ve always known: my big things, my purpose, my grandeur all lie within my words. I am a writer. If I stay true to that the rest-whatever it is supposed to be-will follow.
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I started writing a year and a half ago. Wait, let me be clear, I started writing so long ago I can barely remember my age. I kept journals, but never very successfully because I always felt like a fraud keeping a journal. You’re not deep, I’d think. You’re not an artist. I’d think. You don’t write poetry or novels. What business do you have keeping a journal? So I’d start and stop over and over again. I have packed and moved countless notebooks that are 3/4 empty and I have recycled even more. The point is, whether it’s in journals or on letters or in essays for class or just scrap paper and napkins that I grab from my nightstand drawer when an idea strikes, I’ve written somewhere and somehow for as long as I’ve been able. Writing is the way I communicate best-even with myself. So I started writing, presumably, at birth. I started this blog only a year and a half ago.
In that year and a half something that I thought I was only writing for three of my sisters and my mother in law has turned into something larger. I have heard from strangers that they read my stories. I have been told my voice speaks to people who need to hear it. I have been given opportunities and shown paths I never thought imaginable through my sweet little blog. These opportunities and avenues of growth have forced me to examine what I’m doing now and where I want to go. I’ll admit I got caught up in all of it. I imagined great things for me and my words- albeit not in any clear way. I had visions of grandeur; always a bit hazy, but visions none the less. I started to think, if I just did this or that a bit differently, I may be capable of great things. I could just never quite identify what the great things would be.
So this weekend I went in search of purpose. I hoped hearing from successful women would give me some idea what my great things should be. Perhaps I’d start a revolution. Perhaps I’d give advice to keep others from stumbling down the same crooked paths as I have. Perhaps I’d entertain the world. I was hoping someone this weekend would show me my way.
You know what I learned from the women (and a few men) at this conference, specifically the two old friends who shared my room and one I found in a ballroom? Amidst all the madness and free gifts and PR spiels, three people spoke to me and here is what I heard: I am a writer. Yes, it’s that simple. In my heart I have known this all along but it took hearing others’ stories and being encouraged by a few to share mine that confirmed what I’ve always known: my big things, my purpose, my grandeur all lie within my words. I am a writer. If I stay true to that the rest-whatever it is supposed to be-will follow.
Yes, Mrs. Cristie Ritz-King, you are a writer. And I am a reader and I love reading your writing. So keep at it.
I love reading your blog Cristie! 🙂 And thanks to you, I decided to start one of my own. I've actually found writing on the blog to be more therapeutic than the half finished diaries that I have scattered around. So I just wanted to say thanks for being an inspiration to me 🙂
Your words are musical and magical! Keep embracing that fact because writers make the world much more enjoyable to dance through! xoxo