The friend I celebrated today, Chris, is one of the reasons why I published The Pet Washer. The other two reasons are named Janna and Kate. They are three middle-aged, healthy, and active women with different types of stage four cancer. Two have now passed away.
When Janna died, she was laid to rest in my town. When I pass the cemetery, I'm tormented by the thought of her lying there. She never stopped moving, never stopped talking when she was alive. She was always encouraging and friendly. She lived her life out loud and I'm grateful for that memory.
But her life on earth is over. Forever. It made me think, "What am I waiting for?"
While I believe that how we treat each other is the only thing that truly matters in eternity--I also believe there is value in doing things, creating things, and building things here on earth. Even if they will turn to dust someday, expressing ourselves in architecture, novels, films, party planning, perfectly drafted legal contracts, or whatever is valuable. I believe we are called to do these things! We have hands and feet for a reason.
I have to write. Most of you know exactly what I mean. I think I could even handle prison if I had a word processor. In fact, the thought of living in a cell with nothing but a toilet, a computer, and time kind of excites me! (If you're smiling, you get it!)
So I finished The Pet Washer and published it. Then I wrote Dead Girls Don't Cry and I'm trying to sell that. Book two of The Pet Washer series is over half way finished. I've also decided to try and sell my "The Jennifer (Recession) Diaries" blog. Meanwhile, a new middle-grade book, The Winged Herds of Ahnak, has plopped into my head fully-formed like Venus. The third book of The Pet Washer series, The Majestic Voyage, is also fully-plotted and waiting to be written, and when I'm done with all that, I have a completed middle-grade manuscript I wrote when I was nineteen ready for editing.
What was I waiting for? I was waiting for my dream of being a writer to magically come true, I guess, but my friends have shown me that I don't have endless time. One becomes a writer when they start writing and keep writing. I now write every single day--and not just on this blog. I don't need to be recognized or chosen--I'm proceeding as though I already have been. Becoming a writer is no longer a dream or a wish, it's a reality.
Thank you my dear friends. I miss you.
To Do: Give birth to your work now or it will die when you do.
I entered this post in a contest at http://youareawriter.com/contest/ Check out this site! It belongs to Jeff Goins who I wrote about yesterday.