I love to write. Have you noticed by now how often I declare this to be a sure and uncertain fact in my columns? That’s because it is, and I do, I do, I do!
I love it when I awaken from a deep, beneficial sleep, with intervals of REM (that lead to dreams that come in layers as if someone is reading a story to me backward) — then walk right into words for The Advocate or the pulpit that are waiting for me to tap, tap, tap away at my keyboard. I love it when they come fast and get in front of my head (but don’t love it when they get ahead of my heart).
But the kind of writing I’ve grown to love the best doesn’t get me and my two kitties up out of bed way too early. It doesn’t spirit nudge me to the computer to stream the first paragraph that makes everything else start to flow. It’s not when I’m having a cup of coffee, waiting for my brain to fully awaken. (I don’t drink coffee, in case you’re interested.)…