It took me a long time to become a writer. It took me a long time to learn to pay attention. A writer who cannot pay attention, focus, remain aware, has very little to write about.
Over the last few days, as I followed Bill from doctor's office to hospital, from his room on the critical care unit to radiology where he was wheeled by a fast walking young man with a hint of facial hair, from the second floor of to the front door of the hospital where he was escorted by the wise-cracking red-haired nurse who hugged him before she sent him on his way, I was watching and listening, not only to people and places around me, but also to the drama within me: the anticipation, the confusion, the fear.
When I pay attention it is easy to see that each moment contains a whole world of possibility: pain, suffering, joy, gratitude, love, hate...it's all there waiting to be written about...
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