I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.
HEAD SLAPS, SPEED BUMPS and LIGHTBULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.
They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
That previous post, that I'd be finished and querying by Easter, (and said I'd never make it), I met the deadline.
Book done and querying. But ah ha, it's a different book.
My only regret, I have none. How could I.
Because of life-circumstances I am able to write full-time. What a joy. What a f-en joy.
I am learning to balance my new everyday with the privildge of time for word-devotion. "Word Devotion" sounds like a religion. Ha, maybe it is.
I am grateful, thankful, and hopeful.
The worrier in me has me waiting for the proverbial shoe to fall. It is my nature to think that good has to be balanced with bad, pleasure with pain, love with hate, and joy with sadness.
'Write' now life is good - very, very good.
Um, it's snowing. Fourth nor'easter at our doorstep. Ya know that balance thing I just wrote about?
I told you so.