When a connection strikes
Once in a while, I come across a writer who strikes a chord in my heart. It’s always the heart first, although the mind soon follows.
We love and respect great writers and their work, but the sentiment I am talking about is for a contemporary writer with whom I sense a kinship and who has the same range of writing skills.
It happens when I feel I know and like the person behind the words, that we have shared values and the same sense of humour. It also makes me think we probably had similar influences in our life to be as we are.
I don’t get the same sensation if the writer is considerably more or less skilled than I am. I suppose we feel friendship most easily for equals.
Sometimes the connection is one way, and it’s a pleasure. But it becomes special when the other writer reciprocates the reflection and affection. And the bond strengthens from being exercised and becomes a valuable joy in our lives.
It’s like old-time friendships conducted through letters, but with unbounded scope, as we don’t know what we may read or write about next. It has a delightful dimension of novelty and discovery.
When we are lucky enough to have writer friends, we shine our light on each other. We look forward to reading whatever the other writes, not out of duty but to enjoy their presence, their thoughts and feelings.
There’s no competition, nothing to show off, no attempt to impress. We are just as we are. Yet, between us, there’s the warm golden glow of a slow and steady wood fire with the occasional crackle of a story that stands out in our hearts as the blustery winds of life whistle by.
I believe I have a handful of writer friends. I don’t think such chemistry can happen with more than a few, or it may lose its quality. So I am content.
If you also have such precious literary friendships, I would enjoy listening to you tell me about them.
Take care, my precious writer friends, and readers.
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