A line stuck out at me from Jenn Shapland’s recent (and excellent) work on the life of Carson McCullers
[He was] a writer who never wrote.
(In regards to Carson’s husband Reeves McCullers)
A writer who never wrote. A writer who never wrote. I would not want to be remembered that way, but I very well could be. I find refuge in language during certain rocky junctures but when the waters are calm I get lulled, I get lazy- as I recall- It’s a little difficult to remember, because recent years have been so challenging. My writing shelved not because of sloth but because I’m trying to keep the goddamn ship afloat.
Notebook scribbles. She was a writer of notebook scribbles.
My son is medically complex. My daughter is dynamic and active. My kids need me but I need this. So I will keep finding ways to arrive to the page, to express and explore and fumble and reach and keep doing whatever it is that we writers do.