by Cynthia Ruchti
Two recent news items caught my attention this week. No, not that. Not that one either. I heard about a woman whose cancer returned with a vengeance and is creating video moments to share her heart and key life lessons with her young daughters if the current protocol of treatment is unsuccessful. I also heard about a very well-known music artist whose only hope for retaining her voice and singing career is to go silent for however long it takes for her vocal cords to heal.
In both cases, the concern is that their voices will be silenced.
Our message can't be completely silenced, even if our voice is stilled. It lives on in the things and people we loved. It keeps speaking through what we preserve, what we cherish, how we lived, what we wrote.
Most writers have considered--at least for a moment--the question, "What if this is the last book I'll ever write? Have I said enough? Have I said it well enough? Is this a story that makes a difference?"
Two recent news items caught my attention this week. No, not that. Not that one either. I heard about a woman whose cancer returned with a vengeance and is creating video moments to share her heart and key life lessons with her young daughters if the current protocol of treatment is unsuccessful. I also heard about a very well-known music artist whose only hope for retaining her voice and singing career is to go silent for however long it takes for her vocal cords to heal.In both cases, the concern is that their voices will be silenced.
Our message can't be completely silenced, even if our voice is stilled. It lives on in the things and people we loved. It keeps speaking through what we preserve, what we cherish, how we lived, what we wrote.
Most writers have considered--at least for a moment--the question, "What if this is the last book I'll ever write? Have I said enough? Have I said it well enough? Is this a story that makes a difference?"
