I think I am able to express myself more easily in the written word than I can orally. When I am writing there are no uh’s or um’s. Oh, don’t get me wrong there are plenty of pauses when I write. But the reader doesn’t know how much time I may have spent staring out the window in between sentences.Sometimes the speed of thought between brain and mouth can be unmanageable, especially during episodes of high emotion. When I speak there is no auto correct, no backspace or delete key.
I remember as a kid arguing with my sister. She would yell at me to “Take that back!”
But we quickly learn, there is no “taking back” of the spoken word.
When I write I can cryptically hide behind metaphors. I can let those characters running around in my head laugh and cry, wander and wonder, be lonely and afraid.
I’ve always liked to tell stories to little kids. I would tell tales to my little sisters and brothers or younger cousins, then my own children and now my grandkids.
Until recently, until I started my blog, actually, I had not thought about writing my stories.
Now, I have a number of stories with great beginnings, but can’t seem to make them whole.
I suppose it’s a combination of a lack of discipline, perseverance, and mostly self confidence.
I have no idea of being a famous writer or even getting published. But at this point in my life, wouldn’t it be the grandest of finales to not only have a beginning, but a middle and a “The end".
I can escape my reality with a story.
In my story my spirit would soar.
I would breathlessly run up to the mountain top so that I could see the world. I would throw my anger over the edge.
My tale would be filled with lavender and daffodil and aqua blue.
At the end of my story my heart would be whole.
