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August 18, 2004 I am a writer. I have always been a writer. It’s part of my identity, part of who I am. I have never claimed to be an artist of any sort. Sure, I love to run around snapping pictures. Sure, I’ve been told they are good. But it’s just so easy! Point—snap—another beautiful image captured. Of course I know it isn’t really that easy. I’ve been taking pictures for as long as I’ve been writing. And, since film and developing cost money, I had to learn early on to make them count. And I’ve always been embarrassed to be caught out for an amateur, so I taught myself the craft. People have told me for years that I should sell my pictures. Huh? They’re just pictures! I’m a writer, not a photographer, not an artist. But I have been unemployed and broke for a very long time. One day last winter I sat down and went through my stacks of albums and selected some photos. I made note cards. They sold. I became braver, and made enlargements. They sold. Today I am going to present my photos for possible display at a high-visibility gift shop. There is a lesson here. All my life my dreams have centered around one thing—writing. And as I’ve wrestled with my writing, getting nowhere fast, photos have been accumulating. Salable photos. Writing may be as natural as breathing to me, but so is photography. But I have been so focused on honing the one skill, I hadn’t even realized I’ve been also honing the other. So go ahead and dream, but don’t let it overwhelm your mindset to the point where you are blind to other possibilities, talents you maybe didn’t even notice you were developing. There’s no rule that says we are each given only one gift, but I do believe we have an obligation to use as many gifts as we have been given. |