3 januari, 2011 § Een reactie plaatsen
When Death dropped by uninvited last year, it threw me back two years in time. So much for planning, so much for beating statistics – statistics beat me. Ferociously. I ended up another few years back in time, by starting what I hadn’t done since publishing my book in 2001: writing.
It felt out of worldly to say the least, biking up to the Binger on wednesday nights to write with a bunch of strangers, both a Moleskine and a MacBook in my Freitag. Nice brands I couldn’t care less about anymore. Yet the writing…
I feel I should say it liberated me. Truth be told, it definitely helped getting some oxygen down my lungs – both literally and ‘mentally’.
When something ginormous like Death slams you in the face, leaving you confused, frustrated, incredibly angry and totally lost, it’s good to have people around steering you back to the main road. People like Ilona, forwarding info on aforementioned writing course. Matthew, convincing me that no matter what was going on in my life, his writing group would ensure a safe environment. My sister, telling me it was a good thing to do, no matter how recent It happened. My HR hero, persuading me to enter the second course. My colleague-turned-friend, telling me to do the third. I listened, knowing all they want, is what’s best for me.
Do I consider myself a writer, having started writing again? Do I consider myself an artist? Not just yet. I do believe there is creativity in each and every one of us. In one of his songs, Leonard Cohen sings about his ‘Secret Life’. In 2011, I intend to explore my Secret Life some more, up until the point I can look in the mirror and say without a doubt: yes, I am a writer.