writing journeys

February 2024- Love What You Do

I have learned to own my talent. I have learned to protect my gift. I am learning to take better care of the vessel both are housed in. And for that respect, for that investment–I find myself in love with my craft.

I seek to stretch in it, stretch out in it, and work it. As Baldwin said, this is the only thing that I have that will contect me with the world outside. It is for this love, this complex power I have which is expressed by letters–that I do this.

That I must do this.

And for that cause…I love what I do.

For This Love

I am a writer.

I sound like one, I sound like language and move in metaphor.

I am besotted by language, letter and the magic they make to provoke, evoke, subdue and gather— I must have.

For this cause, I am in awe of what I am able to — and all powered by love.

It is the weaving of the invisible into the seeing realm, this magic of inexplicable means— that I have made the mortal immortal.

I have given resting place to dreams, resurrected the dead, and brought water to dry places.

I am grateful to be a writer.

Let my love for this never wither, never ebb, and never fade.

JBHarris

Encouragement Pages – 2/14/2024

There must be a time in your writing journey where you must be specific about it. You must be willing to ask yourself what you want from it, or even if you want it–or even want to pause it.

You are more in control than you would like to think!

With Love & Ink,

JBHarris

With Love & Ink,

JBHarris

February 2024 – Love What You Do

It is the day before LOVE DAY here in the United States.

And my reflection for that day will be posted later. What is crucial for me to tell you is this, and I want you to pay attention to it.

I love being a writer. I have wrestled with loving this thing that I can neither resist myself from doing, and nor stop myself from doing. I am a writer–and cannot help but be so!

I am poet.

I am a blogger.

I am a social critic. 

I am an artist.

I accept all of these identities as they fold me into a this world of a person whom can only identify herself as a writer. Yet, what I have found is–I love this. This is what I enjoy doing. And may always be doing.

Perhaps, this is your story. Maybe your have accepted this love–this symbotic drive of person and art converging in one path or another in this time to be considered a writer.

And for that gift–I am grateful.