Refuge

I had an informative little posting all ready in my mind for this week.

But then I had a really bad week at work. Not just miserable, or boring, but sobbing all day and downcast all week bad.

I came home exhausted and frustrated and angry and upset.

So I did the only thing I could do. I wrote.

I took one of my characters, and gave her the bad day. But she coped better than I did. She did what I wished I had done. And as I wrote, I calmed down. The anger melted away, the frustration disappeared, the tears dried.

And then writing that scene led to another, and another, and then led to a part of the story that I didn’t know was there, but in retrospect makes sense.

When I finally put down my pen, I also finally felt better. I’d finally found the calmness that had been eluding me all day.

Whatever the reason I write, whether to tell the story, or achieve something worthwhile, or to connect to other worlds or places or people, I know one thing for certain. Writing will always be my best, and often my only, refuge.

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One response to “Refuge

  1. I aboslutely agree. Many a time that I’ve either come home supremely aggravated or been severely aggravated at work and simply put pen to paper when I found a free moment to myself. Amazing what came out of it sometimes.

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