A Decade
A decade has gone by. When I look back on that time in my life,
I hardly recognize it.
Ten years ago, I began my writing career.
It doesn't seem possible.
"How did your writing career begin?" you might ask.
It all began with a friend in a faraway land. He and I met online and wrote each other daily, often writing several times a day.
As I came to
know my friend, I learned that he was a writer. He wrote poems and shared them
with me. Reading his writing encouraged me to begin writing myself. I shared my
writing with him, and my confidence grew. I then shared my writing with a few
select friends. I wasn't ready for the world to read my writing just yet.
As my friend continued to write, he created a blog online. Reading his blog made me think about starting my own. With his encouragement, and that of my friends, I created a pen name for myself, Esperanza Habla, which translates into "Hope Speaks" in Spanish.
I began my first blog, "Words of Hope", ten years ago, writing poetry and prose in English and Spanish.
I then created this blog in
2012, which allows readers around the world to translate my writing into their
native language. Over sixty languages are represented on this blog. Since
creating this blog, my writing has been read in over 100 countries around the
world.
In 2013 I created my own publishing company, La Luna Press, L.L.C., to publish my blog posts in book form.
As I said before, when I look on my life ten years ago, I barely
recognize it. I used to write at the drop of a hat, whenever inspiration
struck. When I had the hint of an idea, even a glimmer of a hint of an idea, I
would put pen to paper, or fingers to computer keys, and write.
Ten years on, my writing has changed exponentially. There are a few reasons for this:
-I have written a great deal in the last ten years. I have written and published 408 writings here, and on my earlier blog, "Words of Hope." While that number can hardly be described as prolific, I have written about a number of issues, and have explored a number of topics. When I sit down to write something, I consult the archive of my work to see if I have written on the subject before. Quite often, I have already done so. To write on the issue or topic again would be monotonous and unnecessary.
-The pandemic has changed life for everyone. My reading has changed. My television viewing has changed. It has been months since I've watched a scripted movie. My thoughts have changed. I wouldn't exactly call it "pandemic brain fog", although many are experiencing that, having a hard time multi-tasking and concentrating.
While I have always been introspective, and observer of the world, my thought process has changed. My thoughts themselves have changed. As such, writing doesn't come as easily as it did for me in the past. I worked on the last piece I shared here, "Racial Reckoning", for six weeks before it was ready. I added content that did not fit in the piece. I had trouble making the thoughts align. I had written probably twenty incarnations, and had as many working titles for it. It finally came together, and I was able to convey all that I wanted to say.
-I feel it is my purpose in life to be a writer, a thinker, an observer of life. Perhaps I should call it my charge, my duty, to be a writer. It is a purpose I do not take lightly. Quite often events of the world dictate that I have to write. I have to speak up and take a stand for what I believe in. Other times, when there is nothing calling me to write, there must be a force behind it, a contributing factor that makes me write. It has to be worthy of being written.
I am reminded of the adage "Art for Art's Sake", written in Latin at the beginning of every MGM movie in Hollywood. I am not going to write, and publish, anything that isn't worthy. What I write, what I share with the world, has to matter.
I am critical of what I write. If it doesn't serve a purpose, if it does not benefit society, or myself, I do not publish it. If it's not worthy of being published, it's not worthy of my time to write it, nor your attention to read it. While this is a fine writing philosophy, I must remember to not be so critical with myself. My writing can sit for a time, bloom like a glass of wine, and maybe find new purpose. Come what may, I have to give it the chance to bloom.
Ten years have gone by. An entire decade of my life. When I look back on that time in my life, I hardly recognize it.
Thank you, my friend, for being along for the journey through these ten years of my life. I love and appreciate you. I would not be where I am without you. I will never be the same.
Wishing you health, happiness, and peace. Thankfully and gratefully yours,
-E
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