I like words.
I like words to be all romantic and script-y and pithy and hung around my house.
I like to string words together and make stories and images and memories that live and move and breathe in the confines of the imagination.
I like to read words penned by the greats and the not so greats.
I like to take someone else’s words and shake them until the story sings a melody that only someone else could have written but only I could have found.
This blog is my story, my song, for the tone-deaf girl who’s always felt a bit awkward and out of place in this world. These are my words for the dreamy big sister, who became an idealistic teacher, who became a harrowed mother, who learned to embrace life.
And Grace, Faith, and Hope which came in the forms of three sassy daughters. They readied our family for our only little boy mischief-teer, and he readied my heart for a whole wide world of surprises and unknowns.
For our God always gives immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:21).
Just write life.
These are the words the Lord whispered upon my heart when I searched and sought and tried to put myself into a box, a platform, a cliche that wouldn’t close. Just write life–all its messy mundane magnificence.
So I do. I write five-hundred words every other week in a little column for a little newspaper. I write about anything and everything here on this blog. I write with the influence of growing up in the rural South, with the bloodline of the Lowcountry and the red clay of the foothills, that voice creeping into my fiction that’s short and long and has won a few accolades.
I write alongside mugs of strong coffee and glasses of sweet tea. I write at the kitchen table in a too-small house with a too-big mortgage. I write when my children sleep, when they play, when dinner is on the stove, and when I would almost rather fold the mismatched socks than wrestle with words.
I write because I can and because I can’t.
I am a wife to the most patient man who loves me more than I deserve. I am a mother to the most impatient children who forgive me more than I deserve. I am a writer to the people who believe love lingers in the most unlikely of places.
I’d be proud to have you join me in this place and along this journey.
Award-winning writer, Lindsey P. Brackett once taught middle grades literature, but now she writes her own great works in the midst of motherhood. A blogger since 2010, she has also published articles and short stories in varying publications. In 2015, she joined Splickety Publishing Group as Editor of Web Content. Her popular column, Just Write Life, appears bi-weekly for The Northeast Georgian, and she is actively pursuing syndication.
Her love of family ties and southern places prompted her first southern fiction novel, which recently went into publication with Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Look for it in early 2017.
As a mother of four young children, her home is always full of wet towels, lost library books, and strong coffee.
Contact her on social media or email: firstname.lastname@example.org.
She’d much rather talk to you than wash the dishes.