Like the iridescent gleam of silver-white stars in the night sky, or the many-coloured spectrums of a prism blazing green, scarlet, purple and gold in the sunlight is the love a writer has for his craft.
I love to write.
It is more than a hobby too, for hobbies come and go, vary in degree and are not something that usually define you or make you YOU. But with me, it does. I can honestly say there is nothing like the feeling inspired by the rush, the blinding twirl and swirl of words flowing from the nib of a writer’s pen, the ink-stained marks on the crisp white paper that, if looked at carelessly will seem but a bunch of letters clustered together, but if gazed at with care, can be seen as vivid flashes of beauty.... of lands, places, thoughts, peoples, truths and things made up of one’s deepest heart-felt imaginations, emotions and feelings.
For me, writing is a reflection, a pouring-out of my heart unto something tangible... and that tangibleness almost feels like it becomes a part of me as I write, so much so that it hurts at times, makes me grind my teeth and feel like bursting into tears. This world involves weary nights agonizing over one quarrelsome sentence, a choice of words to describe the image in one’s mind, the struggle to capture the perfect mood for a scene, the emotion or thought of a character and getting to know them and understand them, time spent tearing up a ‘worthless’ page in agony of thought and rewriting it until it shines, spending sleepless nights thinking of solutions to plot-holes and deciding with almost a terrifying godlike sovereignty the fate and destiny of the beloved (and not-so-beloved) characters created in one’s literary world. Such is the sheer weight of words, the beauty of the written word. Such is the life of a writer.
And one I treasure...
I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions- James A. Michener