by Cindy K. Sproles @CindyDevoted
There isn’t a person I know who can say that 2020, and truthfully 2021, hasn’t affected them. We haven’t seen such chaos and internal unrest since the 1960s. I remember as a child, being afraid to close my eyes to sleep and wondering if the world would end. Now, here we stand again, amid that same type of unrest and fear. Between Covid-19, its variants, and the civil dissatisfaction, I feel like I’m four years old again, reliving those same fears. In my 60s, I would lie if I didn’t say the angst keeps me up at night.
Though this last year, I’ve experienced loss. Of course, I’m not the only one, but it seems to be more loss than the average Joe runs sees. This past year Covid has claimed two of my sweetest writing friends, and cancer has taken another. My heart hardly had time to recover before the next death hit. It has become increasingly vital to address our writing careers from the backside going forward rather than the opposite.
