WELCOME TO MY WORLD
When I think of writing, it fills me with a sense of self and connection. When I act upon that sense of self and connectivity, like now, I have absolutely no doubt whatsoever that I am joyfully and passionately doing what I was placed here on this earth to do.
Ever since I was a little girl and held my first pencil to paper I have engaged in this art. The older I got the more I wrote. This artful journey has led me through so many exciting and adventurous genres. I have written nonfiction and fiction, romance and mystery, plays, poems, journals, essays, columns, and children’s stories. I have written for love, for money, for escape, for therapy, to tune out, to tune in.
For fifty years this is what has been my constant companion, my lover, my friend, my job, my passion. It is what I do with myself and the world I live in. I live to write.
Writing has always given me a feeling of great discovery. For instance, like now, when I’m really in the mood to write – it becomes a mixture of both a blessing and a necessity, a tremendous need – like breathing. The act of writing, of getting it right as in the perfect description of something I see, feel, hear, taste or smell can only be compared to how a hunter feels when he hits a bull’s-eye. I love it when I write like that – perfect and splendid; but in all honesty, I love it equally when I write period.
As I look out my window I think about how much writing is like the weather. Full of drama – calm or stormy; sunny or dark. Twenty minutes ago it was cloudy outside and the wind had a gentle breeze to it. I could smell the fresh earth outside, in fact, I think that’s what filled my psyche with a need to once again put pencil to paper. I experienced an exhilarating aliveness to one of my senses and had to try to express it. Since doing that the weather has changed as has my thoughts and reflections on writing. Outside, it is now steamy and the wind has vanished but left behind the pretty yellow puffy flowers from my tree on the ground.
Writing is how I define who and what I am and have always been. I write the old fashioned way – just as I have from the very beginning, with pencil or pen to paper. Later it will make its way into my computer. But for now I just write. And as I do I am aware of the feel of the paper that the side of my right palm rests upon and the smoothness of the metal pen between my fingers. Silence as pen meets paper.
Writing. Is and always will be rapturous to my soul.
Hugs,