Letters from the Lauffice

Good morning, friend,

I’m actually not writing this letter, the first of many I hope, from the Lauffice. I’m writing it perched on a black metal stool at the art gallery where I work one day a week. The “powers that be” have given me permission—between serving customers and restocking inventory and tidying up—to write. Of which I am grateful. I believe that when we are lovers of creativity, we are willing to move heaven and earth (or perhaps just some of our expectations) to make time for others to pursue that love as well. So, thank you, Freiman and Bethany—I will use this gift of time wisely.

And today, using this gift wisely means writing to you, my friend. Some of you who read this, will be near and dear to me for we’ve shared life together over these many years. To walk this world with one other soul, let alone a handful—or dear heavens—even scores? What a treasure. If the pandemic has taught me anything, it is that the community and company of others is a gift but not a right. It is something to be cultivated with equal parts awe and effort. 

Others of you may know my voice from The Stories Between Us podcast, where my husband, Shawn Smucker, and I spend a few minutes each week waxing poetic (and likewise bemoaning) this quirky little piece of existence that is called “the writer’s life”. 

Or perhaps I’ve had the distinct honor of getting to know you over at The Stories Between Us community where we’ve managed to transform this unruly beast of social media into the cuddly and companionable Labrador retriever that it can be when given the right training. We get down to the business of “living the writing life together” over there, and for each of you co-journers (is that even a word? The red squiggly line under it tells me ‘no’ but I’m keeping it anyway), I am thankful.

So why this? Why a letter to add to all the other “things”? 

Because who doesn’t like a good old-fashioned letter every once and a while. If I had the time and financial means to write this little note out to each of you by hand and then fly it into your mailbox with a flowery still-life postal stamp, I would. But I can’t. So again, a grand thanks to technology for making Plan B an option. 

But a letter for what? The worst possible thing to get in the mail is a brightly colored envelope with a hand-written address and a scrapbook-worthy stamp, only to open it and find a pre-printed greeting from Hallmark embellished with the signature of the sender. What a let-down. So, while this letter won’t arrive in your mailbox, every word in it will, most assuredly, come from my hand and my heart. 

And these will be words of journey. (No, not journey with a capital “J” like the eighties band, though the lyrics from “Don’t Stop Believing” may show up at some point, because, geez, what a classic and the message is spot on, right?)

Okay, enough flowery business, let’s just get down to it. These are letters for the fighters for and lovers of creativity, who find the journey tedious with a frill of delight on average days, unbearable from head to toe on the worst, and sublime with angel’s wings on the best. And sometimes we need to know we aren’t alone in it. And that’s where I come in. To say “you’ve got company so keep going” in a hundred different ways that you might find mildly entertaining and helpful. Or maybe more than that (one can always hope…)

So, join me for “Letters from the Lauffice”. (“Good heavens,” you may be asking, “what is this ‘Lauffice’ she keeps talking about? This woman just keeps making up words!” Yes, I do. And check back here next Friday to find out more about The Lauffice:)

Until then, my fellow co-journers (using it again!), keep writing.

Love, 

Maile