I can be long winded. Those that love me usually meander along with me with an occasional plea and a hand thrust upwards, asking me to stop. Others can only take me in small doses. Both of these groups are fine with me. I have no emotions connected to those who have opinions about who I am. Or better said: I have no emotions connected to what others may like or dislike. I don't take it personally.
I think a lot. Some say too much and too often. I think they should think how they like to think and leave me alone to my thinking. I am forever looking at things from all angles trying to imagine and understand all sides. Some attribute this to an astrological sign, others have no opinion at all on the subject. Still others have not thought a thing in ages and if asked will say: I never thought about that.
My own life has taught me that I am not comfortable when being told what to do in the form of a lecture. I have also learned that what I can't seem to hear or understand on Monday is often understood by me on another day, say a Friday, or even the following year.
I write in solitude, as many writers claim to do, and I never, ever imagine who the end reader might be or what they might gain. I am simply a writer because someone reads what I write. maybe one, maybe thousands. I do not know. I write to clarify ideas and issues within my own head. I write to place on paper stuff I no longer want in my head. I write to amuse myself. I write believing that what I write is useful somehow to others. Useful on a Monday or perhaps next year.
I write because I feel compelled to do so as sometimes my tongue fails me. I write because the physical activity of writing: sitting down, making the chair just right, clearing a space around my keyboard, adjusting the monitor always feels like a fresh start to me. It's a time before writing when I prepare myself for cerebral flow. People who do not write will see me watching TV or shopping at the grocery and imagine that I am not writing. I am always writing even on aisle two next to celery. Most of writing takes place elsewhere, far from a pencil or pen. while I am away from a seated writing position I am thinking about what to write. I am piecing together the connections to be made that will eventually become an essay or story. I am a storyteller. Not in a novelistic kind of way but in the meandering kind of way.
Sometimes when I am on aisle three someone may ask me out for lunch and I will decline saying: No. I am writing now, and I will go home and watch TV. If they knew of my whereabouts they might become suspicious and call me a liar, but I am writing. Inspiration to write comes from TV and the sound the toilet makes when it is flushed. Nothing I am involved with goes unobserved. Writers observe. We observe like a reflex. All the reality we see and hear gets put through a filter, interpreted and comes out the absolute truth as a lie. Writers take the truth and make it absurd. They quote others verbatim and make it their own. We writers are thieves.
Sometimes we writers are ghastly. We may say something to you just for a natural reaction, that we can take home and add to what we write.
I once received a comment from a reader telling me my writing was shite. She had stayed at my home as a guest and we hadn't parted with kisses. She declared: You don't even have followers! When I looked at her blog I saw she followed 6 million, two hundred and fifty-thousand, five hundred and three, other people. I don't have followers because I write for myself and I don't want to get caught up in the distraction of watching a number grow and being miserable if it doesn't. I feel secure about my writing and have never found the need for a groupie. What I write about is personal and intimate to my heart. If someone finds it helpful then I am sure they will read it quietly and contemplate it with their own hears. Or they won't.
I write because I get better at writing the more I write, and that makes me happy. When I am finished writing a piece I feel complete and feel free to go lay down in bed. And yes there is a dab of wanting something left behind of me after I go. A remnant of Moira, once long ago.
I think a lot. Some say too much and too often. I think they should think how they like to think and leave me alone to my thinking. I am forever looking at things from all angles trying to imagine and understand all sides. Some attribute this to an astrological sign, others have no opinion at all on the subject. Still others have not thought a thing in ages and if asked will say: I never thought about that.
My own life has taught me that I am not comfortable when being told what to do in the form of a lecture. I have also learned that what I can't seem to hear or understand on Monday is often understood by me on another day, say a Friday, or even the following year.
I write in solitude, as many writers claim to do, and I never, ever imagine who the end reader might be or what they might gain. I am simply a writer because someone reads what I write. maybe one, maybe thousands. I do not know. I write to clarify ideas and issues within my own head. I write to place on paper stuff I no longer want in my head. I write to amuse myself. I write believing that what I write is useful somehow to others. Useful on a Monday or perhaps next year.
I write because I feel compelled to do so as sometimes my tongue fails me. I write because the physical activity of writing: sitting down, making the chair just right, clearing a space around my keyboard, adjusting the monitor always feels like a fresh start to me. It's a time before writing when I prepare myself for cerebral flow. People who do not write will see me watching TV or shopping at the grocery and imagine that I am not writing. I am always writing even on aisle two next to celery. Most of writing takes place elsewhere, far from a pencil or pen. while I am away from a seated writing position I am thinking about what to write. I am piecing together the connections to be made that will eventually become an essay or story. I am a storyteller. Not in a novelistic kind of way but in the meandering kind of way.
Sometimes when I am on aisle three someone may ask me out for lunch and I will decline saying: No. I am writing now, and I will go home and watch TV. If they knew of my whereabouts they might become suspicious and call me a liar, but I am writing. Inspiration to write comes from TV and the sound the toilet makes when it is flushed. Nothing I am involved with goes unobserved. Writers observe. We observe like a reflex. All the reality we see and hear gets put through a filter, interpreted and comes out the absolute truth as a lie. Writers take the truth and make it absurd. They quote others verbatim and make it their own. We writers are thieves.
Sometimes we writers are ghastly. We may say something to you just for a natural reaction, that we can take home and add to what we write.
I once received a comment from a reader telling me my writing was shite. She had stayed at my home as a guest and we hadn't parted with kisses. She declared: You don't even have followers! When I looked at her blog I saw she followed 6 million, two hundred and fifty-thousand, five hundred and three, other people. I don't have followers because I write for myself and I don't want to get caught up in the distraction of watching a number grow and being miserable if it doesn't. I feel secure about my writing and have never found the need for a groupie. What I write about is personal and intimate to my heart. If someone finds it helpful then I am sure they will read it quietly and contemplate it with their own hears. Or they won't.
I write because I get better at writing the more I write, and that makes me happy. When I am finished writing a piece I feel complete and feel free to go lay down in bed. And yes there is a dab of wanting something left behind of me after I go. A remnant of Moira, once long ago.
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