I write. Daily. Some of what I write makes it to the ether and is read by others, some does not (or perhaps has not yet). I chronicle and highlight people that inspire me, of which many are writers. Does that make me by a writer? Is it what one calls oneself or what appears on one’s paychecks? Profession or provocation? I am a writer.
I feel a connection to writers. I know the feeling of that perfect sentence, of finding the words in the right order that conveys what is inside your head.
“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” – Ernest Hemingway
I will defend what you write to the end. Period.
I will not defend your writing when it is violence-inspiring ignorant yelling. I appreciate a well-written manifesto, regardless how crazy I believe it to be.
Lastly, if your beliefs in your deity/god are on such a sandy foundation that you cannot handle a few satirical cartoons, you have bigger problems than the cartoons. Research and understand what faith actually means.
We are still here. We are not afraid.