Friday, January 30, 2015

On Writing and Hiding and Why I'm Doing Both for a While

Hey blog-world friends!

This is just a note to acknowledge my absence for the last 8 weeks or so. Oh, you didn't notice? Oh well, I have. Especially after a seven-month run of Epistolary Wednesdays, a form and habit I love still.  Here's the deal though (and an explanation for my silence). I'm feeling pulled to do that sort of writing that can't have an immediate audience. The beauty of blogging is that I get to write and interact with all of you lovely people. But the reality of my life (the one where I'm a mom to three squirrelly girls, an associate pastor, and a writer) is that when I'm blogging, it's the only writing I have time for. And in this season, I'm feeling pulled to do that other kind--the kind that buckles down and explores and doesn't know what it wants to say quite yet but is figuring it out, stumbling through poetic language, slashing it, running into metaphors, finessing them, and figuring out what they mean. That kind of writing is more expansive than a single blog post or a series of interconnected blog posts, and it's what I'm feeling pulled toward in this season. Maybe there's another book to unearth. I guess I won't know until I spend some time in the cave.

All that is to say, I will check in here from time to time. And see you on Facebook (always Facebook). And please, if you are a lover of Dear Boy, please share it with your friends. Could I be so bold as to ask you to write a review on Amazon or Goodreads or Barnes and Noble (or wherever it is you buy your books)?

Until next time.

***Heather Weber is the author of Dear Boy,: An Epistolary Memoir

"Dear Boy, is a brilliant and unusual memoir of distance and absence--the absence of a beloved brother from his sister's life and the absence of healthy mothering that, over the years, drove brother and sister apart. Weber deftly shifts point of view so that, piece by piece, readers gather the sum of confusion and loss. Yet there is so much love and forgiveness in the narrator that, in a way, each character is redeemed. I'm moved by this life, this telling of it." --Fleda Brown, author of Driving with Dvorak.