When the hard part is the good part

I have been writing a story for a magazine, and the subjects I have had to interview are thrillingly complex, some with really tough childhoods and no hint of railing at the fates, just a tensile understanding of how their particular set of circumstances fueled them, put the steel in their backs and gifted them with the knowledge that they had seen the worst, and they survived, so bring it on.

I've been an editor for so long, I had resisted going back to the writing side. It's hard finding the right subjects for stories, and harder still to do them justice in the piddling few words that magazines have to offer. It's why any story I report ultimately serves me to a far greater degree than any reader who will hold the finished product. The stories I hear as a reporter are so much richer and more layered than can be contained in any one magazine story. I think this is leading me back to books, to writing them, to helping others birth them, and I must be on the right track because I find the thought somewhat exhilarating.

I spent the whole of the week just past scheduling interviews, conducting them, poring over the transcriptions of them, thinking them through and letting the connections happen. Now comes the writing, the hardest part, although in truth, the part of the story I'm currently engaged in is always the hardest part, and when I get through it, the most satisfying.

I plan to spend most of this day writing. I opened my eyes this morning eager to get to my computer to see how much I might get through before my husband and I have to get dressed for a rooftop dinner party with dear friends this evening. It feels like a delicious indulgence to spend the day in this way, which must mean I am doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

This freelance thing is going to work out. I have decided.

Happy Saturday, my lovely peeps. I'm still in the flow.