Quote of the Day: It was time the story was told from a woman’s perspective. Lauren Nickisch

Today is the first Wednesday of the month, when bloggers from all over the globe post their insecurities and offer support to one another. Check out more bloggers through the Insecure Writers Support Group website, or by visiting its founder Alex J. Cavanaugh.

This month’s question is: Did you ever say, “I quit”? If so, what happened that brought you back to writing?

I have never said, “I quit,” but I have taken huge breaks from writing fiction. I need a kick start to get the latest play edited and produced. It’s time! 

I have had debilitating insecurities. They come from comparisons and listening to those negative voices both in my own head, and from the lips of others. Those insecurities had attached themselves to me like one of those nasty ticks that infest my area of the world. They bite into you and infect you with diseases that can weaken you, and even kill you.

The best antibiotic for the insecurities infestation is to do something that fills your creative spirit. Create something new, experience someone else’s art, listen to the positive voices! They are there, too. I heard them from at the church where I play music. I heard them from the children I teach, and I heard them from community members. 

I felt inspired by the performance of a local playwright, Lauren Nickisch (see quote above). She wrote the story of her great-great-great grandmother Hephzibeth, Woman of Iron. She was a pioneer woman in Northern Minnesota. She aided and befriended the native people. She raised eight sons and one adopted daughter. She endured the death of four of her children. She worked hard, loved harder, and passed on an incredible legacy. Her tenacity lives on in her great-great-great granddaughter Lauren. 

Lauren Nickisch as Hephzibeth, Woman of Iron. Quilt by the Pine Tree Quilters, a most gorgeous backdrop to this pioneer woman’s story.

Watching Lauren portray Hephzibeth up on stage at our local community theater filled me. Her performance was stellar. She had the nuances of the older lady, sipping her tea, knitting her mittens, reading letters from days gone by that told so much, and yet so little, of the times. I saw her trying to hold a horses head up as it struggled in the frozen lakes of the North. I felt her heartache at her son’s death. I saw the twinkle in her eye as she talked to her granddaughter. I hung on every word.

You must tell the stories, and create the art, that you were born for. Pluck that tick of insecurity off your bottom, roll up your sleeves, and…

Go. Create. Inspire!

Journaling Prompt: What has inspired you lately?

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