writing is kind of hard
When you’re pressed for time, and circumstance, you clam up or belt it out. As a writer, I do both, depending on the moment. Some of my days are good, and still, I just can’t write a single word. Some of my days are bad, and the holy trinity of the written word shows itself to me.
Sometimes I look up to the sky and I wonder...where are those that see it as I do?
Sometimes I wonder...what is it that I see?
And sometimes I just don’t care. About either of those answers.
The writing takes place in the head, all day long. The words culminate, and cultivate themselves and eventually the words become phrases, and the phrases become sentences, and the sentences become attached to one another and then become coherent ideas.
And the beginning of something is born. Yet, writing it down is a wearisome task at times. It`s so much easier to just think it. If only I could think-write, I`d be the best darn think-writer around. And everyone else, like me, would too.
Writing is hard. It takes a hell of a lot of gumption and a serious forte for visualizing one`s thoughts. Writing corners you in your deepest, darkest spot and demands that you answer your own questions. Writing is a passion that only the writer can understand.
A writer is his or her own boss.
A writer is the maker of anything and the whole world is an audience to what the maker makes happen.
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