time to write

Life has changed over the past decade. Ten years ago we were carefree newlyweds that had dual incomes and plenty of time. Time for hobbies. Time for baseball games. Time for endless Netflix queues. Time for sleep. Time for vacations. It was a season.

This season we are in is about intensity. Intense joy and laughter. Intense learning and growth. Intense time management. Intense exhaustion and happiness.

As the seasons change, so do the moods and rhythms.

One constant that has always been a part of my life is writing. As a student, there were the endless assignments that ranged from real-life research projects to creatively constructed short stories. There was not a lot of “by choice” writing, but there was always a great deal of joyful writing.

During the years between college and children, writing was a time for reflection and confession. My journal was my place and the words were crafted as a freedom of expression. I wrote about “me” and my life. It was a blissful, and much needed, transition from years of academic writing.

When my time got stretched thin and I was actively embracing the life of motherhood, I found myself in one of two positions. It was either what seemed to be endless nursing or negotiating and keeping pace with an energetic toddler. I was in the thick of it. I was ragged and worn out. I missed conversations with people taller than my waist. I missed uninterrupted meals. I missed the drip of the sweat and shaky quivering muscles from a gym workout. Working outside the home was not a feasible option. And, above all else, I wanted to savor the hectic nature of the season we were in.

I had to find my place. My people.

Freelance writing is my outlet. This blog is where my words reside.

I am a creative person and am drawn to the process of designing, molding and perfecting the written word by weaving the sentences together and “creating” the story. I decided to turn my hobby of writing into a “job”.

My dream was to travel the world and write about exotic destinations and fantastic adventures. But my calling and my reality were to write about the places, people and things in my backyard. The locals. The stories their products, their businesses and their lives told. My lofty, and possibly unattainable goal, was to create purpose and persuade the masses with my words.

Draw the characters with words.
Support local.
Create the web.
Meet the people.

Tell the stories.

The local publications are where you’ll find me during the day. The farms I skip to and from. The businesses I have driven past a hundred times and finally stop in to check out and talk to. The new-to-me food experiments that happen in my kitchen and are lived on the pages of a newsletter.

The stories I hear keep it real. And, I am blessed to tell them.

Freelance writing is my calling. It is not and will probably never be my windfall of income. It’s allowed be to fully embrace each season of parenthood and stay home with my girls.

The bridges and connections I have built keep me alive and flow through the veins of my body.

I am honored to tell the stories.

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