An act of optimism

Writers aren't renowned as a particularly optimistic bunch. It can be a lonely toil and the rewards are never guaranteed. I've recently started another big project (I won't use the n*vel word until I hit 20K words) connected to the last big project, and when I wake up early or wander out late into the icy dark to write, I need that sense that I'm doing it for good reason. Even with all the ominous news of decreasing readership and closing bookstores and such, I keep on believing that writing is worth my time and sacrifice. I'm hopeful because there is still so much good writing coming out into the world, so many books each year that I buy and read and love. I engage in great discussions on the topic all the time, either at my book club or on Twitter or in my classroom or anywhere else. Also, I'm quite certain my students are reading more now than they ever have; I can see them turning away from their screens and back to old-school books, perhaps a renaissance before the death of the written word was truly upon us.

So, I'm optimistic.

Years ago my hubby gifted me a journal and I think the inscription - care of Edward Albee - says it best.