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| A few of my favorite writers. |
My adult students recently gathered for a party.
What were we celebrating? The fact that each of them had written a story or poem or memoir in their own voice...and that they were willing to share it with us.
Each piece welcomed us into another world. A world where a woman wears red boots while pretending to dance with Robert Redford. Where another woman meets Elie Wiesel in a refugee camp. Where a Ukrainian man is on a plane full of Crimean Tatars returning home after being expelled by Stalin more than four decades before.
When I was a kid I felt special because I was a writer. I loved sitting cross-legged on my bed and pouring out ideas onto paper, then shaping them into a form that made me happy. I also loved the way my English teachers beamed approval at me.
Our party on March 16 was a celebration of both things - the private joy of expressing ourselves and the public pleasure of appreciation and applause. Writing is an act of power that can grow tenfold and more when we're heard by others. Truly a cause for celebration!
