Nod To Love

If you have not yet watched the Annie Barrows interview in this month’s issue, I encourage you to do so. As I mentioned in an earlier column, Annie writes books for seven year-olds because she loves seven year olds. Yes, they are her readership and so are also her bread and butter, and yes she started writing books because she felt she could make a living doing so—but all of that is secondary. She writes because she loves. I flew Southwest airlines for the first time recently. Southwest is definitely a no-frills carrier, but some brilliant higher-up made the decision to let the hosts and hostesses have some fun. And so they will sing songs and tell jokes and generally do what they can to lighten the tedium of air travel. For me, it worked and then some—though not because the singing was so tuneful, or the jokes so funny, but because the hosts and hostesses were enjoying themselves. It’s nice to be around happy people.

And on the last leg of my journey home, our singing hostess welcomed us to Seattle, told us how grateful she was for flying Southwest, and signed off saying, “Thanks again. We love you all.”

She hardly knew us, but I believed her. Why? Not because of anything we’d said or done, but simply because we’d afforded her the opportunity to express herself and her gratitude. The performer does indeed love her audience whose attention compels her to summon love. As Joyce said, “Love loved loves to love.”

I know that I go on about love in this column perhaps more often than writing; the its supposed reason for being. But I cannot help it. I cannot really tell the difference between the two. Writing is nothing more than one of love’s infinite vessels. To talk about writing without at least a nod to love is like designing a house without a door through which someone could enter.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual and group conferencing.

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