Have you ever finished reading a book and wanted more? Is there ever a moment you finish reading even an email or a text message and respond just to get another message in return? Do you find yourself so connected to the writing of the message you don't want to put it, whatever it is, down? Some readers find themselves feeling with the writer or the narrator, dreaming with him or her, and wake up maybe realizing what they really want is "that" moment, "that" person, "that" experience that some writer has put out into the world for people, or in some cases one person, to know about.
I know what it's like. I do. Unfortunately, sometimes I'm the one doing the writing and staring at a blank space wanting to put my own words down in addition to reading or hoping for someone else's words to read.
Writer's crisis averted -
My loving mother came up with a beautiful idea for me to start writing once again in a space beyond the pages of an online blog, journal, or rapid-fire text messages. More on that to come.
I now find myself mentally thumbing through the moments that are writable. Everything is writable if you have the outgoing guts to do it. The very act of writing, whether it's a novel or a letter in the mail, heck a text message, is such an act of vulnerability we open ourselves up to letting people see how we see and experience the world.
Writers have an intimate relationship with words. I certainly cannot just choose a word to fill a space without understanding my full intention with the sentence it is within. I think I now understand the verbosity of my father's emails and earlier, his cards and letters, and the time in which it took for him to express those heartfelt words.
I pause and think about how brave some writers must be, how lonely and maybe afraid they may have been at times to put out into the world that which was brewing within them. On the flip side, I know there's a light bursting energy of joy when this process occurs. The hope is somehow, at least for me, to conjure some emotion or feeling that perhaps the reader didn't know they could feel or has been feeling, but didn't quite know how to identify it. The hope is somehow maybe someone feels a little less alone, a little less lonely, incredibly brave and fully alive from age five to age 75.