Posted by: Shara | May 1, 2017

Choose Your Words…

As someone who mournfully tucked away the flowing ink and parchment and said goodbye to a dying age in favor of typing at breakneck speed to keep up with my ADD-driven thoughts, I understand Hal Zina Bennett’s exploration of the creation of a writer in Born to Write. Some of us have thoughts constantly flurrying through our minds so quickly that we wonder how anyone could be lacking in potential material. Some of us come under the pressure gun of career deadlines to create something useful. Some of us are writers… and some of us just love painting our thoughts on a monitor canvas.

I am a writer who paints thoughts. Was I born a writer? I have no idea. I don’t remember that time of my life. What I do remember is that, by age three, I was a reader. And I was creative. I had parents that channeled my creativity into craft projects, exploration, and encouraged the dreams that lived in my head. They taught me to read at an early age, and opened up worlds in space, house fairies, and far-away gypsies in bright costumes. My first passion was devouring other people’s stories. Nancy Drew was my six-year-old heart’s heroine. I wielded words well from the moment I learned to speak, and I was fascinated by the power they held. I wrote my first poem in second grade. I didn’t receive any top awards for writing. I never made that childhood jump into the editorial section for an argument well-stated.

I never stopped writing.

I have a talent for motivating people. I have skills and talents for public speaking, understanding what someone else needs to hear, for connecting with other people soul-to-soul, for communicating in ways that open minds, and for thinking on my feet. Writing well is talent. Writing well is skill. Writing well is hard work, determination, passion, and persistence. Talents and skills are nothing without passion and persistence, because the moment letters are used to shape feelings the reality can’t be stuffed back into a box. My soul exposed allows for that heartless critique to relentlessly dig away at that carefully penned therapy and tears word from page, leaving me with only passion and persistence to fuel me rising up again defiantly and proving I will not die. Writing, then, is ultimately courage. My unseen work as a writer, gears twirling as the adage goes, is the constant pondering of experience, life, and wisdom that comes from the hard work of delving into my soul more deeply than philosophers are willing to look so that I can lay myself bare for all to see in hopes that they will learn lessons from me that I had to learn through the breath of mortality. My raison d’etre, my triumph, for my writing journey is that the rush of being alive is renewed every time I finish a work.

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