I love writing about Passion. Watching passion unfold in a fledgling writer, or a writer who's had a breakthrough. Lately, I've had more than my share of opportunities to be part of the Passion Parade.
I have a piece on David Jackson in this month's Goodness Magazine, and it's one of the few times I've enjoyed re-reading something of mine in print--rather than scanning the article for errors, as is typical, I sunk into it, like a reader, and allowed the subject and his zest to talk to me--invite me into his world--which I gladly relived.
I've also been working with a visual artist, helping him find his voice inside of a series of lyric essays. The process has been delightful and engaging. Working with this client, I get to revisit my own journey with the pen, discover anew why it is I do what I do. The magic of it. The sweet whisper in the ear. The disappearing hours. The floats and marching bands--even the shitting parade horses. I've never been a Rose Festival Queen, but I'm feeling pretty damn happy with my baton.