Maybe this post is part 2 of 2 with my previous post, because it deals with similar subject. As I've thought about the pros and cons of sharing my stories, it's started to dawn upon me that they aren't my stories alone: they are our stories. I own my life and many things have happened exclusively to me, but many things have also happened, because of me, to other people.
"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Our Stories
Writing this blog has been a tremendous experience for me. I've found an outlet to process and express complex and evolving feelings and I've been touched beyond expression by the response from friends, colleagues, and strangers who emphathize and sympathize with the comments I post here.
As I've received positive feedback about my writing, I've started to think about other projects. There is a whole genre of topics that I can't write about in this forum, particularly related to relationships, that I could share in other formats: short stories, newspaper articles, maybe a book. Why not spend more time writing, both improving my craft and building something worth sharing more broadly? Last week, I remembered why not.
As I've received positive feedback about my writing, I've started to think about other projects. There is a whole genre of topics that I can't write about in this forum, particularly related to relationships, that I could share in other formats: short stories, newspaper articles, maybe a book. Why not spend more time writing, both improving my craft and building something worth sharing more broadly? Last week, I remembered why not.
Labels:
bipolar,
bipolar artists,
memory
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