Single, young writers – they’re nothing special. A dime a dozen, if I had to guess. They might charm you with their wit and tone but what obstacles do they come across in their thought and deliverance?
No, a single, young writer is merely an athletic grade school child – holding promise for a period of time but destined to fail once practice is scorned.
A seasoned writer, though, that is something more. An independent, let’s say married, family-conscious writer – now that is a gifted individual. I realize this because I consider myself to be the former of the two: A not-so-long-ago single, young writer quickly approaching the blessing of a shared life.
But with blessings come change.
With blessings come new challenges.
The thought has prodded me often, as of late, that to speak freely of a shared life is to speak of someone else’s life – meaning that my words are not merely my own words but are now a direct reflection of my life’s co-pilot.
You see, when you write and you are young and you are single, you might consider your parents or your friends but it’s easy to write what you want because you’re independent and not directly tied to anyone.
Your parents can either laugh you off, wash their hands, or love your way with words (Thanks, mom and dad, for choosing the last of these!). Your friends may very well hate what you write and wonder if that last post was directed at them, but at the end of the day, you don’t use names in your posts and who could really say if a friend is that friend or another friend? They can remain untouched.
But a spouse? A spouse cannot be made into a friend for a work of writing. A spouse is a spouse and you will do spouse-like things with them. They might result in hilarious, slap-your-knee, fall down crying kinds of stories or tales of sadness or joy. But they could be embarrassing to someone who does not have a desire to broadcast stories like a writer does.
The result of all of this is that I will begin to practice writing. I will work to find a balance between story-telling and cherishing. Broadcasting and protecting.
I think that if I keep steadfast in my efforts, I can strike that harmony in word. And perhaps someday you might think of me as a seasoned writer. And I might think so too.