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Relating to my Writing

Every now and then I get a chance to meet someone or speak to someone who tells me that my writing has in some way inspired them or that they could relate to it in some way. I never know where these things are going to come from next, and the one I got today was from a surprising source – a new employee.

It’s no secret that I love to write. A friend told me a story last night of something she had gone through over the past year or so, and as she spoke my mind whirled with visions of pages in a book. I could clearly define each chapter in my mind and told her at the end of the story that we should collaborate. It would be a wonderful romantic comedy with a dramatic twist or two in it. She inspired me – which for some reason hasn’t been easy to do these days. I've been very distracted by something going on in my own life, including writing a new book about two people who fell in love against all odds. It has a very happy ending to it. Still, it seems like everything I write lately in a public forum is about or pertains to love or a mysterious number of days until something big happens.

So imagine my surprise today when, in random conversation with a new employee, I started spouting off a poem I’ve not heard or said in many years.

Why is love like a sandy beach
Not to far but hard to reach?
Hard to reach and hard to hold
Hard to keep your heart a whole.

Bad luck comes to those who stand
Gripping tightly to slipping sand.
Good luck comes to those who wait
And hold out their hands in a childlike state.

They wait there
So patient and kind
Never aware
Of the treasures they find.

A broken shell
Cracked and old
Isn’t to pretty
And rather cold

But turn it over,
That broken thing,
And listen to
The ocean sing!

So why is love
So like the beach?
Not far away,
But so hard to reach?

Don’t hold too tightly
To things so dear,
If it’s mean to be,
There's no need to fear!

At the end, he asked me who wrote it. I could tell from the look on his face that he had expected to hear a name he would recognize; Dickenson, Frost, Stevenson… but I would NEVER compare my own work to any of them. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when I told him that I was only 13 years old when I wrote that poem.

I had found yet another someone who appreciated my writing!! I explained the story of the book I wrote, how it was swept away in the uHaul in the Summer with everything else I owned, and how I had random samples online. Intrigued, he wanted to hear more.

The pieces I chose were dark and worrisome, I will admit. I find that I'm often at my best when in a morose or dark mood. I chose another poem titled Silhouette of Margaret, which I wrote in a fit of boredom one day in 2006, and the “Other Perspective” piece I did from another point of view over the end of a relationship. In both cases, he was drawn in. He identified with the negativity in the Other Perspective, and explained how it was a roller coaster when I was reading Silhouette of Margaret, emotional highs and lows, always wanting to know what happened next. I never thought so much of that one, but I have known a few people to really enjoy it. I think that’s why I chose it.

After the “Other Perspective” piece, he felt the need to talk to me. He confided in me and I took some pride in that. He had identified enough with my writing to feel comfortable telling me about his home life. I knew that, if my words never touched another soul from here on out, my work was done. Someone in the world felt like they weren’t so alone anymore. That’s all it’s ever been about for me.

There have been times that I have felt so alone and so empty that all I really had were my stories and writing. I wanted so much to tell others what I was going through so that if they ever experienced anything similar, they would know that they were never alone.

I’ve been lucky enough to reach a few people. It’s the greatest gift I could be given. I reached yet another today. Perhaps I'll be lucky enough to reach another tomorrow. Perhaps the day after, too. Maybe even the day after that. But I reached one today. That's enough for now.

A sincere thanks from a friend of mine who read this... This honestly brought tears to my eyes. I hope my friend doesn't mind, but I wanted to share...

"You have touched me with your writing, shown me that with courage you can move on with life through difficult times, and face a future brighter than ever expected. Thank you"

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