written word

The Importance of the Written Word

The fact I feel the need to even defend the written word is soul-crushing, just so you know, but here we are.

However, one of the most soul-sucking disasters of our educational system, at least in my state, is the lack of emphasis on spelling. Indiana doesn’t value memorization; therefore, my kids don’t regularly have spelling tests. Strange. They are still learning math facts like multiplication tables. That’s memorization. #doublestandars

Some teachers have even said to me, “well, if they are going to have a weakness, spelling would be the best area because they will have spell check.” Right. Until they spell the word so badly even spell check can’t help them. Also, I don’t totally trust spell check. It won’t always catch grammatical errors.  Misuse of their, there and they’re.

I get it, we’re in a world of texting and email, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t learn how to do things correctly. Okay, I’ve gotten on my soap box … let’s carefully step down. (Okay, this Instagram video is hilarious – including stepping down carefully. You gotta watch it!)

Words I Like Writing

Ever since I resurrected my blog, people have asked, why are you blogging instead of just doing Instagram stories? You’re so funny!

First of all, you’re diluted. 😏 Not funny, just honest. Mostly, as I said, writing is cathartic. It’s not about me. It’s about the words. I’ve always found other people and their stories so interesting. That’s likely why I was drawn to journalism. To tell others’ stories.

I also really love writing cards and giving them to people. It’s truly one of my favorite things. Back in high school, when I was on the newspaper staff, we used to always get the “out of the blue” cards from Hallmark. They were $.99. I’d buy like 10 at a time. We used to share them amongst each other all the time. Like “hey, that was a great story!” Or “sorry you were having a crappy day yesterday, hope it’s better today.” It was so much fun and you never knew who was going to give you one it always brought the biggest smile to my face when I got one.

It’s really stuck with me. So I have a box of cards at home. Lots of thank you, sympathy, grief, and a few birthday cards that I just keep on me at all times. You just never know when you might need one out of the blue! I’ve gotten to give a few cards recently and I can tell you the recipients were really touched I took the time to write a few words on a card and mail it.

Words matter.

The written word has saved lives, circulated powerful ideas, preserved traditions and memories, and so much more. Great moments in history have evoked and set a basis for some of the most important values by which we live today.

Written Word

Image Credit: https://www.pamelaqfernandes.com/power-written-word/amp/

Some of my favorite places to buy cards:

Em and Friends

The Written Word - Papier

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Heather Chastain

About Heather

(So, my web designer says I needed to include a bio, though I find this task silly because, if you’re here, you know me.)

I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s a cathartic mechanism when I need release from my anxiety. I’ve had blogs in the past; I’ve taken them down, but I never stopped writing. I simply can’t. My notes app is forever long as it’s filled with pages and pages of different topics. Sometimes I just write a few sentences. Sometimes I write paragraphs.

Recently, I've been writing long essays. My friends and others I hold dear have coaxed me into sharing my work again.

So that's what I'm doing, you wicked, pushy people. LOL

I have no desire to see my writing be anything more than an opportunity to share what I love doing most. I have no interest in this blog reaching the masses.

I thought it would be fun to call it My Spicy Disaster because that's often how I feel. A complete mess of epic proportion. So join me, if you'd like, and let's pretend we're not sitting amongst the chaos crying, but laughing instead.

Or maybe we do cry sometimes, but then wipe our tears and remember one person’s disaster is another person’s … well, who the hell knows …