Early in my life, writing became a therapeutic and invigorating tool. As a young girl, I wrote all my feelings in journals, as well as created stories that mimicked things I read and loved. I was the girl with the boxes of homemade stapled paper books that created a fire hazard in my secret hiding space of my closet! Writing was a part of my core existence.
As I grew, unfortunately, I found myself constricted in writing, trying to follow the code of school assignments. I lost the joy of writing in my effort to check all the boxes. I always received good grades… key word… good. I rarely received those academic accolades that went beyond the average A. I literally checked the boxes and appeased the assignments, losing sight that my true writing gift was not in the checked boxes, but in the genuine expression from my soul.
As I graduated college, my journaling returned, but not nearly to the level of joy and wild abandonment from my early years. However, when my son fell terminally ill, out of necessity for communication , along with a deep urgency to try release some of my overflowing emotions, I began writing daily updates shared with my circle of support. That circle then shared it with others, while those shared even further. My daily writings began to circulate the globe, as people were drawn to the journey of our precious little warrior. Writing from that personal place of pain and necessity, I found my way back to the pen.
Since then, I have never stopped the journey of writing from that delicate place within , no longer focused on checking those “English boxes.” I am thankful for my formal education affording me the ability to have structure and understanding of best practice in piecing together a strong compilation. However, I am even more grateful for finding my way back to that organic place of connection where the words flow freely in reckless abandon as opposed to cautionary concern for perfection.
In organic expression I am fueled by the rich connection found between myself and the world around me through the written word. And through my authentic expression shared openly, I have heard over and over that I need to write a book. Affirmation to write from others came from comment after social media posts about our journey or my view / experience with something nature. Others have encouraged my writing after a devotion I shared, usually inspired by a raw place of need inside of me that worked itself out through writing. Other times I have been challenged to write, through creating fictional material based on experiences in my world that inspire my imagination. I feel alive when I write, and others connect. It is magical!
COVID hit our world with sharp, cruel intrusion, at the same time cancer was hitting my daddy and a failing heart was hitting my sweet Mama. The forced slow-down from the pandemic paired with the extreme amount of time sitting in hospital parking lots near my parents, yet but not allowed in, put me in a conundrum of either allowing the wait and worry to be the robber or the motivator. I chose the latter. As a result, the first three books in my Children’s series, Diddley and Squat were completed; my first guidebook to be used as a toolkit for families in crisis was written, and my first counseling-based book, Where the Ocean Meets the Sun left my inner thoughts and became a reality in print. It was time to choose and I chose.
The beauty of it most of all is I wrote it for me. I needed to prove to myself that COVID, cancer, and heartache were a part of my journey, but not fully controlling me. I needed to rise to goals set, especially in hardship ,because that is where personal growth explodes. And I needed an outlet. Writing during this really hard season served the purpose it began to serve when my son was dying. Writing was cathartic, healing, and hope-filled when all the things around were not.
So welcome to Robin Lynn publishing. A place where raw, imperfection pours out onto the pages allowing space for personal growth, an emotional outlet, and a hope that something expressed in my work, may touch another…even if just only one.
I cherish feedback. Be kind but be real. Provide reviews, provide your thoughts, and maybe let me know if you have been in any way inspired to find your own cathartic outlet, be it writing, music, or even punching a boxing bag. If somehow what I am doing challenges you to go chase your dreams and do something you dream of doing, that will thrill my soul!
Blessings to you,
Robin Lynn