Why We Write

In which case if you are doing it regularly you know what I mean. Blog! They tell you. So here I am.

In which case I wake up with poems swirling in my head. Or I’m running, dripping from the shower to my notebook where I promptly soak my most recent scrawling with the one I am sure will blossom and grow into the IDEA.

In which case THE IDEA is the one that will spur the book or story that encapsulates what I want to say in the world and/or births a character who needs to live on pages somewhere, someday.

And then you forego vacations for seminars and free time for sweaty, coffee-laced forays into madness, your only companion, a laptop/notebook/voice recorder that would have you arrested if it could for all of the abusive invective you’ve spewed into it over the years.

And then you are looking through old journals or at a half-formed draft shambling sadly among your One Drive files and find a line or two that makes you think, “Fuck! I would pay money to read that, it’s frickin’ (beautiful, deep, funny, irreverent, generally bitchin’)” and then, as Jackson Browne says, in a song aptly titled, The Pretender “You get up and do it again. Amen.”

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