Nauvoo Times, gone
The Nauvoo Times is gone as an active endeavor. It made up so much of the rhythm of my life; every alternate Wednesday I had a column, which meant for a long time that I had to have that column off into the ether on Monday morning before I left for the YMCA. When they got a Facebook platform, that meant that the deadlines were moved up, and my column had to be in Kathy Kidd's inbox not by the end of Monday but by 8 a.m. east coast time. This meant that it had to be sent off before I could go to bed on Sunday, and many were the nights that I was up past my bedtime, pondering and polishing.
I tried to have something started earlier--actually on (virtual) paper, that is--and not just in my head. Most of the time I did, but sometimes it wasn't much. I always do a better job when I can sketch out, at least, what I want to say and then let it run in the back of my brain for a while.
The writing there took over from writing here, after a while. I need to come back. The Nauvoo Times column meant that I could actually say I was a writer, based on some objective measure, I guess, and I hoped that what I offered mattered. I need to write, whether that venue exists or not, because the process of composition lays my ideas and feelings out to myself, to reinforce what God teaches me.
Sometimes those things are the quietest brush of the Spirit, and sometimes they come strongly. I no longer teach the stake Relief Society class, and soon I will be released from my current calling because we simply won't be here to serve--we are moving to Utah. But I considered this undertaking one of my callings and I anticipated its continuing for a long, long time.
Sometimes I had things on a list, and couldn't sleep because my mind was crafting paragraphs and concepts. But many times I would have some impression of the moment take hold, and I would write about an entirely different thought or event. There was, thus, a queue of columns-in-waiting. I had ideas that mattered to me that weren't written yet when this journal reached its end, a determination that was made after the managing editor, and my friend, Kathy died suddenly. I started to write about her soon after, and that half-formed post will be brought out and finished. I miss her. I'm grateful for our correspondence, which predated the existence of the Nauvoo Times, and grateful that she championed my inclusion.
When she asked me if I was interested in writing for a new LDS online journal that was going to start up, which would give me (and others) a voice I said yes. No money, but a place. When she sent me the proposal letter for this undertaking, I was simultaneously exhilarated and intimidated--it was being set in motion by Orson Scott Card, one of my writing idols. He and his wife would have to rule that my writing was good and my voice was worth hearing. Emily, my oldest, and then my father both ended up writing; Kathy knew we were all related, but the Cards did not, as she sent our submissions along for consideration.
We are reaching the end of a second month past the end of active publishing. All of the columns are available, without comments or the ability to comment, as an archive, including those which had been discontinued at the time when it was brought to an end. I will still go back to it, but I miss its active, breathing presence. And I miss Kathy's place in my life. I am grateful for almost four years where I was a part of something praiseworthy. I count that among my blessings.
I tried to have something started earlier--actually on (virtual) paper, that is--and not just in my head. Most of the time I did, but sometimes it wasn't much. I always do a better job when I can sketch out, at least, what I want to say and then let it run in the back of my brain for a while.
The writing there took over from writing here, after a while. I need to come back. The Nauvoo Times column meant that I could actually say I was a writer, based on some objective measure, I guess, and I hoped that what I offered mattered. I need to write, whether that venue exists or not, because the process of composition lays my ideas and feelings out to myself, to reinforce what God teaches me.
Sometimes those things are the quietest brush of the Spirit, and sometimes they come strongly. I no longer teach the stake Relief Society class, and soon I will be released from my current calling because we simply won't be here to serve--we are moving to Utah. But I considered this undertaking one of my callings and I anticipated its continuing for a long, long time.
Sometimes I had things on a list, and couldn't sleep because my mind was crafting paragraphs and concepts. But many times I would have some impression of the moment take hold, and I would write about an entirely different thought or event. There was, thus, a queue of columns-in-waiting. I had ideas that mattered to me that weren't written yet when this journal reached its end, a determination that was made after the managing editor, and my friend, Kathy died suddenly. I started to write about her soon after, and that half-formed post will be brought out and finished. I miss her. I'm grateful for our correspondence, which predated the existence of the Nauvoo Times, and grateful that she championed my inclusion.
When she asked me if I was interested in writing for a new LDS online journal that was going to start up, which would give me (and others) a voice I said yes. No money, but a place. When she sent me the proposal letter for this undertaking, I was simultaneously exhilarated and intimidated--it was being set in motion by Orson Scott Card, one of my writing idols. He and his wife would have to rule that my writing was good and my voice was worth hearing. Emily, my oldest, and then my father both ended up writing; Kathy knew we were all related, but the Cards did not, as she sent our submissions along for consideration.
We are reaching the end of a second month past the end of active publishing. All of the columns are available, without comments or the ability to comment, as an archive, including those which had been discontinued at the time when it was brought to an end. I will still go back to it, but I miss its active, breathing presence. And I miss Kathy's place in my life. I am grateful for almost four years where I was a part of something praiseworthy. I count that among my blessings.
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