I love writing. For lots of reasons, but lately, because it’s an excuse to learn. And not just learn in an academic sense, but in a sense that enlightens me.
I love having a reason to interview inspiring people – to listen to anecdotes of their childhood – to witness their passion and purpose – and to weave the details of their story together.
I love characters. We are all characters – and at times, parodies of ourselves. We have our idiosyncrasies and our funny-isms and the things that we do that make others say: “That’s so… you.”
I love hearing new stories. And not in an investigative-journalism-breaking-news headline sense (in fact, I rather appall the evening news) — but in a “the stuff that matters” sense where everyday people are extraordinary heroes. Where incredible talent meets great humility. Where beauty and joy and courage rule all.
I love seeing the best in people. And more importantly, I love when people see the best in themselves.
When the ink stains the page, and the words are written, I love how writing grounds us. It takes what is floating around the air and our minds and our hearts and makes it real.
I love writing because the greatest story can come from the smallest detail.
Because by learning about other peoples’ stories, we can better craft our own.
Because, in a big sense, we are all characters of the same story.
I love writing because just as I have to think about what I write — it is in writing that I think.
And that is all for now.