I've had a few days of pouring energy into something that has seemed to bubble up from the core of me the moment I claimed a loss for words. Funny how that works. Like by claiming the missing I conceived the finding. How by the voicing I damned the damning.
I read this today: "Write something that you can't stand NOT to write." How can I stop if it's pouring out all on it's own? I can't. I couldn't stand to stop.
I have this vision of running away - anywhere will do - running away to just write...to let my fingers do the talking...to see this from conception to the birthing in one large unbroken breath.
I had this notion that to be writer you had to be "published". But don't you only need to write? To make music with words; verses with rhythm, harmonies with synonyms...to create something from nothing, from empty space where no story lay before - that is a writer.
So yes, that is what I am.
And all I want is to create something beautiful.