bleeding my soul onto paper

Bleeding my soul onto paper: my words for what the writing process feels like at times. Especially the act of personal writing, such as memoir, personal essay, column, and yes, sometimes — maybe even often — blog writing as well.

Both of my latest reads included sections describing the authors’ writing processes and struggles and insight, along with all of the spiritual revelations shared. I’ve been saving some of this for the right time, and this week feels like the write, eh, right time for me, personally, to introduce these thoughts here.

So, here’s what Heather King says about how books have impacted her life. I’d imagine we all could contribute our own story(ies) of how a particular book saved us:

[From Redeemed, p. 178]

“Books saved me life — literally kept me from killing myself — and now I know it was because so many people were willing to burn out their lives in front of a page trying to get it right. People whose goal wasn’t to sound smarter or more profound than the rest of us, but to show us what it means to be human. People who set out not to sensationalize their pain, but to shed light on ours. People who didn’t set themselves above the world, but were part of the world, and loved the world and suffered for it, and made art of their suffering. These are the heroes I look up to, whose feet I hope to sit at one day, whom I hope to have a chance to thank for their stories that sustained and comforted me, their hard, hard work, their example. Maybe fetch them a glass of water, a bedpan, a pill. If I’m lucky — polish their crowns.”