I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam.....

Why do I write?
Why do I lock myself inside my mind?
Why do I hide from the world around me?
Why do I take myself out of life?

It's no easy thing to ponder, the solitary writer's path that's been chosen. Sometimes, it feels as if we have no control over what decisions we're making-- like the journey has already been laid out for us and there is nothing we do that will alter it....

But, for writers, most writers, some writers--- okay, at least for me as a writer.... I can do nothing other than what I am already doing. Even when I wasn't trying to be a writer, I was writing. Even when I wasn't trying to compose a story, the tale was already writing itself in my sub-conscious. The solitary, writing life might be no easy thing to ponder, but it beats the reality-- that being a writer is a helluva scary thing.... or, it can be, if you really think about it.

Books have the power to change lives. Which means, by extension, writers have the power to change the world.

I don't intend this to be some grand, self-promoting, horn-blowing, "I'm a writer-worship me" kind of statement. I don't lump myself with the future-changing, earth-shaping masters who've carved a path through the mountains. No, I'm more of the socially-acceptable schizophrenic writer who has a thousand voices all screaming for a chance to take center stage.

But, the idea of the world changing as a result of someone's words, that's magical stuff.... magically, powerful stuff....

One thing I will allow myself to "share" with these wonderful molders of humanity, is the plight/curse of every writer--- one can not simply NOT write!

Even when you've chosen to 'grow up' and pursue other career choices, when you've gone to college and chosen never to 'write' another 'story', somehow, the path that was chosen for you will never allow you to stray too far. Suddenly, you have hundreds of poems, fifty short stories and a dozen novel-length manuscripts and no earthly idea where all the crap came from.

Comments

L is for Loch Ness Monster....

With Kelpie, for my 'K' entry, still fresh, I thought it'd be fun to stick to the water for a bit. So, while we're in the realm of Celtic water creatures, why not visit with the most famous and widely known of aquatic beasties---- the Loch Ness Monster. Though, Nessie, sort of skirts the line of supernatural creature as it is purported by many to be a cryptid, a creature whose existence has yet to be identified by the scientific community. Those who believe Nessie an unidentified animal, have speculated that it is from the line of Plesiosaurs, while the scientific community claims it's just a modern-day myth, or at the very worst--- a hoax. I've included the Loch Ness Monster as part of my Supernatural theme because, like Bigfoot, there's an, albeit EXTREMELY, remote chance that it's real, but, like ghosts, I won't believe it until I see it myself----- I'm a card-carrying skeptic, but, I can enjoy a smidgen of the illogical now-and-again-...

K is for Kelpie.....

Today's entry is dedicated to my wonderful social club pledge sister, who sent me off from our college sanctuary with a copy of "Scottish Folk and Fairy Tales", containing an inscription that the "magic and mischief of the Kelpie follow me".... She knew I had an affinity for water and for mischief...and for all-things Celtic--so the Kelpie seemed to suit---- though, I'm not quite as savage as many folktales paint Kelpies. Kelpies are Celtic water horses, believed to haunt the lochs and rivers of Scotland and Ireland. The Kelpie was known to appear as a "lost pony", though, its identity is given away by its constantly dripping mane. Most stories give the color of the Kelpie's coat as black, though there are a few that mention the color white. The texture of the Kelpie's skin is likened to the smoothness of a seal, but its temperature is "cold as death to the touch." Like many other tales of supernatural creatures, the Kelpie...

A to Z reflections....

Another A to Z challenge comes to an end--- another collection of posts and poetry have been written, another deep breath of relief is released. For my fellow bloggers that survived as well, it's another 'challenge-completed' notch carved into the writing desk. I've come to enjoy my yearly foray into the world of all things alphabetical. This was my third year, though it was only the second year I had a workable theme (which made the challenge substantially easier than the first year I attempted this challenge.) And, though my first year was difficult because my focus was so scattered, I found this year was more difficult because I lost the enthusiasm that came with the first year excitement----excitement which helped me plug along until the end of the challenge. Year 3 was a success in the sense that I completed the challenge, though, this was the year that almost wasn't---- Somewhere about a third of the way through the challenge, I seriously considered...

From the Inkwell, From the Vein.....

Search This Blog