Remembering Elizabeth Klein

I have never thought of myself as a writer.  The practical skills needed to earn undergraduate and postgraduate degrees cemented basic composition skills.  These accompanied me through decades of professional obligations as I prepared copious amounts of monthly board materials, drafted legislative platforms, and crafted strategic plans.  Clear and concise never mingled with creativity.  Writing was an obligation and often a chore that I certainly was not going to perform in my limited free time.  Plus, with more than 45 years in libraries, the opportunities to meet published authors abounded and I knew those visiting poets and novelists were “real” writers.

Even though it has been decades since I chauffeured Elizabeth Klein through a packed schedule of author-in-residence workshops and poetry readings, she serves as my benchmark defining what makes a writer.  With funding from a state arts grant, we crisscrossed central Illinois visiting schools, libraries, and art museums.  She shared her poetry and then helped individuals write their own verse.  She described character development, using her recently published, award-winning novel, Reconciliations.  She declared that for her “writing is like breathing.”  Writing was so deeply ingrained in her conscious and subconscious that she could not imagine even a day without writing.  Her dedication to her craft was completely contradictory to my sentiments since I was happy to avoid writing whenever possible.

writing is like breathing

I surprised myself in May 2020 when I launched this blog.  At the time, I was simply seeking a creative outlet amidst our Covid quarantined days; a place to record, in words and images, tidbits of our life.  That decision led eventually to joining a writing group which has expanded my perspective. I now feel emboldened to self-identify as a micro-writer.  Micro as in – only a little.  Micro as in – needing small topics. 

This blog serves as my knitting journal.  A place where I showcase recent projects, reveal a complicated stitch, or share the origins of a pattern.  Infrequently, I will offer a few sidebars about the books I am reading or descriptions of our garden produce.  And now, with the gentle nudges of my fellow writers, I may bravely foray into more substantial topics as I sharpen the skills in my writer’s toolbox.