Sunday, November 14, 2010


Ink on paper is as beautiful to me as flowers on the mountains; God composes, why shouldn't we? ~Terri Guillemets

There are so many things I love about being a writer.

People ask me all the time why I'm drawn to the idea of being a professional authoress.

It's hard to pick just one reason.

...I have so many.

There is something so profound about writing. Among the pages of your own hand-written worlds, you can seek and destroy life's most excruciating hurts.

The written word can be wielded like a sword in the hand of a mighty warrior, or whispered in one's ear like a lover's private secret. It has such incredible power -- to lift up and to cast down, to bring healing or to rip into shreds.

A writer is one who has been entrusted with the care of one of the world's most beautiful and deadly gifts. It takes great discernment and a holy kind of wisdom to know exactly what to do with this gift.

The written word wove a spell over my soul in the 3rd grade; it's not something I've been able to break free from since. And honestly, I'm glad.

Writing is more than just allowing a pen to dance over a page, or fingers to fly over an eagerly waiting computer keyboard.

Hours are spent, pouring over lines of inky scribblings on scraps of paper. Ideas flit in one's head like a seemingly endless flock of butterflies, only resting in one place for a moment before spreading their wings and moving on to a new idea.

It can bring on so many emotions, so many wide-spread frustrations that those who are not writers do not fully understand. In fact, it can make you a bit crazy.

But then there comes that moment, when all is finally silent. The voices have slipped away, the ramblings have ceased. It's then that the conductor lifts his baton and the writer lifts her pen...and the dream begins anew.

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I look at you and see all the ways a soul can bruise, and I wish I could sink my hands into your flesh and light lanterns along your spine so you know there's nothing but light when I see you. :: Shinji Moon