I know writing is what I’m called to do. I’m good at other things, but nothing feels more RIGHT than to WRITE. I love that those two words are pronounced in the same way. Write. Right?  Writing is what rights me.

Sometimes I sit down with the pen in my hand and begin – it might be a list of things, a love letter, a story, a poem. It doesn’t matter what I write, what matters is I end feeling more RIGHT. The invisible is visible, right on the page.

The first line of the Odyssey by Homer is – Sing in me muse and through me tell the story.  For me, this is a call to action – the GO BIG or GO HOME message from the 8th century, giving me permission to write – asking for invisible help to guide me through.  The line by Homer is inscribed on a ring I wear on my pinky finger. It grounds me into writing, it’s right.

I have always wanted to be a writer.

I’m only now willing and able to say I AM a writer AND I’m going to incorporate writing into making a living – somehow – because I must. I know it’s what’s right. Somewhere deep.  It’s what I need.  I don’t exactly know what that looks like yet, but I’m going to keep showing up for it and trust that it will come. When I say something like this, I understand I have to be okay with the outcome – What if this means I end up writing legal copy for packaging? – well that’s not what I really want to do – but if that’s what happens, I’ll trust it’s all part of getting there.

I have this fear that wells up when I say I’m a writer.  I think of my father, who used to write poetry and send it off to Reader’s Digest and nothing would happen.  He too wanted to be a writer in his mid-70s.  Did he start too late? What if I’m like him? What if I can’t make this dream happen? Gulp, I would rather have tried and evolved, than not tried at all. I won’t wait until I’m 70.

I’ve spent the last eight years writing in my spare time, EIGHT! – mostly in the dark shadows, with some thoughts and intentions of bringing it alive, but no real push to actually DO IT.

I know that eight years ago I could not have left a job and started writing, not even two weeks ago was I willing to do it, but getting fired well – it’s forced me to rethink things.

I am ready to do it NOW, because I never stopped writing. I never gave up on it. I kept it in mind, always.  Now, I see that all that writing in the dark shadows, was so that I could write in the light, in the daytime.  I was righting things all along.

What are you called to do?  What are you not giving up on? What rights you?

Next month I’ll share an excerpt from my upcoming memoir. Terrifying writing that here, but it’s what I’m going to do. Fear be damned!

Credit to the words invisible help to poet David Whyte.