These are FB posts of mine from various threads. They are, in effect, little mini essays in response to what the thread presented. Though they are also self-contained thoughts.
I just returned from the Creatures, Crimes & Creativity Conference (C3) where I connected with many of my favorite writer colleagues. While conferences provide many practical benefits, as did C3 and its fabulous crew, most writers would agree the best part about them is after the business day, convening over a few pops, trading stories. What causes the magnificent glow almost universally felt from these sessions? At the risk of undermining my thinly disguised but carefully cultivated macho-guy persona, I will say it: The L-word. Love. Rapport among people who make art, who are so compelled we don’t know how NOT to do it. Artists whose canvas is stories and the alphabet their brushes. People of vivid imagination, highly articulate people, deeply caring people, mostly seriously educated people, soldiers constantly battling rejection yet silly enough to awake in the middle of the night over an adjective or image. We struggle to do what we do; we struggle to become better and better. We find deep meaning in our creative endeavors. Non-writers, non-artists, have no idea how difficult making art is, how much time it takes and the investment of energy and mind-expansion required to do it well. But we know it. We all share it. It’s never overtly said, this L-word. Instead the glasses clink, the stories fly and we retire for the evening happily entertained, grateful for the bonhomie of such gifted people & their stimulating conversation in an uncommonly non-hierarchical setting. So, many won’t say it, but I’ll say it: I L-word you guys.