Sometimes the words come easily, tumbling out of my brain almost faster than I can write them down. Sometimes I am stuck mid sentence, I scroll through my mental dictionary searching for the words to convey my point. Sometimes the point itself seems elusive. I watch as a concept coalesces and strengthens into something that can be conveyed.
Sometimes my hand seems to act independently. I observe in amazement as posts seem to write themselves. Sometimes words and ideas pour into the margins of the page after my initial thoughts have already been set to paper.
Sometimes, for various reasons, sizable periods go by when I don't write. I begin to feel almost guilty, feel as if I am denying myself the structure and emotional and intellectual outlet and exercise afforded to me by writing.
The act of writing is intriguing to me. I am curious by nature. So I write.
I am glad you write; I enjoy reading your prose.
ReplyDelete