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Years ago, I talked with a Hindu Swami about my love of writing. He told me the reason for writing was to work through my inner conflicts and express my emotions. “Someday,” he said, “you will stop writing, as all the conflicts will be resolved. You will have nothing left to say. You will be silent.”

I can’t argue with what he told me. I wrote DAYS OF DAYS and A DIFFERENT FRAME OF MIND as a way of adjusting to living with a brain injury. I wrote A WEEKEND WITH FRANCES to work through painful dynamics in my family of origin. I wrote BLESSED TRANSGRESSION and HOPE’S NEW SEASON to explore my mixed feelings about my Mennonite heritage. I wrote HOLD ME ONE LAST TIME as a previously unexpressed tribute to the place of my childhood.

The novel I’m working on right now is entitled, MY GRANDPA’S SECOND WIFE. The writing is helping me come to terms with the totality of my life.

Will I be silent after it is completed?


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