A writer is an observer, making mental notes of their surroundings …. hearing the limp in the old cowboy’s step as he walks down the promenade, while smelling the cotton candy in the dusty dusk of the county fair rodeo.
A writer is a reader, possibly with a well worn dictionary beside them, happy to look up new words, hungry to expand their vocabulary. Words are like precious metals, ready to be manipulated, either by pounding into submissiveness or gently stroked into an expressive work of art.
A writer is like a terrier puppy, digging up facts, nosing our way through the musty attic of thoughts and feelings and faded memories; pulling out items of interest, shredding the myths, not realizing they have value until we pour them out of us and catch them on paper.
A good writer is a better listener. Learning to be still.
Ahhh, stillness … versus … non-stillness. I often find myself pontificating out loud as I wade through ideas. This often has a less than pleasant outcome and as we all know, the spoken word is a hard item to reclaim. If I work it out on paper, I have a chance of calming the random outbursts and presenting myself more diplomatically.
For me, being a writer is this insatiable urge to put down on paper, my thoughts, theories, and remembrances. I have misplaced so many details of this life; I don’t want to forget it all.
* annette
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