I recently joined the funeral ministry at our church. Yesterday was the first funeral I attended in this position.
It was for a woman who had lived nearly ninety years. She seemed to have had a good life.
I didn't know her. But I learned that we had a common bond. She was a writer. Not anyone that we've heard of. Her book won't be at the library. But that's not what it means to be a writer.
Her family found large sketchbooks filled with handwritten records of the family, events, life stories. She wrote a book with all this information and had it published somehow in a hardback version.
A treasure for her family.
The pastor at the funeral said, "She looked for the story." As we writers tend to do. Even as I sat there listening, I was finding a story.
On the program from her husband's funeral, she had taken notes. In the margin she had written a description of the young soldier who presented to her the flag from her husband's casket. In the time of her deepest grief, she wrote.
Writers are people who write.