“Without Writing, I’d Be Lost.”

We write because it brings us closer to home. It unties what’s knotted up in us. We write because it cares for our souls to do so.

My friend tells me that in the past he’s agonized over why he’s writing and for whom and whether this sort of thing–especially the publishing part–diminishes his character. It seems inherently narcissistic, inherently self-glorifying, and inherently dissonant with the hidden and quiet life.

He tells me he struggled but finally realized this: “Without writing, I’d be lost.”

The writing life helps us find our way.

Why care so deeply about why and for whom?  The business of it doesn’t care for the soul. But writing? I think of the necessity and pleasure of it. I think of how it nourishes the soul.

Another friend recently told me she loved talking to a particular person because of the way this person “cared for her soul.” The words resonate for days.

Writing helps me care for my own soul and, by God’s grace, the beautiful souls of others.

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