#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Into the swamp I went, this morning, looking for something cheerful and reassuring, and I found, in the light beaming through branches of leafless trees, skunk cabbage, throaty red, tender green, shiny skinned. My shoes sink in the muck, who cares? There is rich color coming back into the woods and streams and wetlands. I find a tender shoot of cabbage, roughed up, uprooted in a little stream. By what? By whom?

For me, as a woman, as a writer, choosing silence is one thing; feeling silenced is another. What do I mean? I mean, as a creative writer, I have a choice. If a critic is honest in a thoughtful, respectful way, I can easily keep writing, and maybe keep writing better. If a critic is honest in an unkind, insensitive, and even shaming way, then I can keep writing, and maybe keep writing better, because I choose to give myself permission to write what I will write to express what I need and want to express. I may get roughed up, I won't be uprooted.

 

All photos and text © Kelly DuMar 2018