Over the last few days, I have realized that the writing gift I’ve been given was present in my bloodline before I was born. As I’ve read my grandmother’s memoir, I’ve come to see that she had a talent for many of the elements of good writing such as description and character development. It’s almost like traveling back in time as I’ve read what the Norfolk/Chesapeake, Virginia area was like in the World War 1 era.

With one of the introductions though, it was made clear that this memoir, especially the third part, was almost not written. Why was this the case? Well, the third part contained a lot of pain that my grandmother went through, and she even stated that some things were not included because of this pain. Writing is a deeply personal thing, and with things that are deeply personal, there is the opportunity for pain. I think that’s why the gift of writing is denied sometimes because people don’t want to dig that deep to find the pain. Denying the gift though is withholding a part of yourself from helping others. And I think you can even help yourself if you don’t deny this gift.

I like what author Annie Dillard had to say about this.

“You were made and set here to give voice to this, your own astonishment.”

May we all give voice to something with our words this afternoon.

Until next time, be real!