My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
People want to share your life. It is theirs to offer. Decide how or if you will respond. You may think some things too essential. You need not be made of glass. Even openness can be a bit closed.
No comments:
Post a Comment