Blog

Is it the Covid 19 lockdown guilt, that voice that asks us why we’re not using this time to write a masterpiece, or in my case dust it off and send it into the world to see if it’s worth anything? Or perhaps it’s just the time I’ve spent in inertia, that space that resides between thinking about writing, actually writing, and having the courage to call myself a writer. The key, my Lovelies, is in fact, courage. Sharing what we write is what allows us to call ourselves writers. I’m pretty sure the private scribbles we indulge in don’t count. The problem is I’m not blessed with an abundance of that vital ingredient. Don’t get me wrong, I can jump off high places, and attempt relatively risky physical challenges, and I wouldn’t be cowardly in defending someone under attack. The courage to share my private thoughts and feelings, and to place my creative endeavors under public scrutiny is however, a whole different level of bravery. This blog may contain ramblings and musings about transience, as a citizen, a mother, and as a woman. It’ll be about life, love, loss, parenting, writing, traveling and growing. I hope it’ll be interesting and not self indulgent. Perhaps someone may find it helpful or relatable. So here we go…

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