I find it odd, for although I have not always been a writer, I have always written secretly. For years, I have filled many notebooks, but it is only recently I feel I can say with any confidence I am a writer. I have at last found the elusive purpose which gives my life meaning allowing me to be creative and to share my work with others. At the same time, I am privileged to also contribute something to the meta-narrative of history and humanity. It is a journey of grace and I am thankful to God for showing me who I am and that I have a purpose and gifts.
Writing expresses who I am and what makes me tick, I think I have found my passion in life! With writing words, I can do far more than if I was to stand up and speak them. Something in me comes alive when I sit down and start to capture the flow of words I hear coming from my soul. I can happily concentrate for hours and create a piece of work that really gives me a lot of satisfaction. I love how the flow of paragraph after paragraph falls into place to form a comprehensible article or story into which I can also weave pictures or photographs to illustrate my writing.
I can choose the style and tweak the format and font, highlight and add specific details. I can build characters and place them in plots or I can make lists about favourite subjects. I can play around with the word count and title until I am contented with the final piece. There is so much I might write about from personal memories to famous personalities; or from previous, present or future events. There can be a total freedom and escapism in letting the words take you along for a journey as you write.
Time passing seems to be inconsequential to my conscious mind as inspiration flows freely like a river in full flood. As I write I let the words take control and wander through all sorts of adventures and visit all sorts of people. I can travel for free, just by choosing a country and go there with anyone I choose to invent to live or work there. I can become the CEO of a global company or a famous mysterious recluse; I can be any age, race, or creed. I can be poor, rich, married or even a nun. I can enter into the writing and live it, temporarily. I can choose to write about facts and people from history, pastimes and hobbies or about recent scientific discoveries and endeavours. I can write about cars, technology or health issues and fitness regimes. There are so many topics to choose from. My desk is to me a portal to anywhere and to anyone. I can write from my study or in the middle of nowhere if I choose to, such is the freedom and expression that a writer can make their own.
In fact, now I am older I can be all the things I ever dreamed of being through the written word, captured upon a blank page. There are no imaginative boundaries, save for ethical or moral ones. I can write from any perspective and have any devil’s advocate debate. I can tap into what makes people happy or angry, sad or rejected. There is a great power in the word and how it is presented.
Words have always fascinated me, how they create something that is so varied and meaningful. I love poetry, narrative, historical drama, oh the list goes on and on! The way that words can be taken two ways, or can infer something quite the opposite, how words rhyme or sentences are structured to make puns or play-on-words. The complexity of words is astounding and awesome.
My love of words and writing I share with so many others who for every life situation someone somewhere has bravely and inspiringly taken up pen and paper and sought to write and capture its essence. Using a variety of genre from satire, comedy, action and adventure, fantasy or factual news taking what they have observed of those lives which interacted within society and sharing the interest for their reading audience. A whole world of fiction has come alive through the observant eyes and ready pen of numerous writers.
Communication and language; both are amazing gifts that we have at our disposal to express our observations. Never has it been quite so easy with the age of computerized technology and social media to submit your work so that others may read it. E-books, although initially popular, shall not have the last word, however, because of the joyful emotion and pleasure we experience from holding and owning a newly printed paper book; it is a delight that never seems to fade. Books are so collectable, so evocative and expressive reflecting some part of our own character and personalities. Ask me how many books I own and it would be difficult for an accurate number but it far exceeds my book shelving capacity! I have hundreds and most are very dear to me.
The epitome for a writer surely is to be able to hold in their hands a copy of their own writing, something so personal which they have crafted and lovingly created. And, there are literally thousands upon thousands of books in print. To visit a bookshop and see stacks of your book, there printed up with people buying it is an exciting achievement and one of the most amazing places for an author to visit. The other surely is visiting a Library and seeing upon the shelf a copy of your book. There is such an attachment to what you as a writer have produced, you will have taken those hard knocks and tearful disappointments until finally the day comes; you have made it across the publishing chasm and have become an author. There it is in black and white or more likely colour, your name clearly and wonderfully upon the front cover. Who could resist wandering in, picking up a copy as if you were merely browsing, and seeing your very own book for sale. It is a sun-dog day, a glory day, a marvellous moment. Bravo!
This is the high objective for some; whilst others are quite content to blog along on-line expressing words and sharing their thoughts, some journal privately for years. But all are writers; all are sharing in the great story of humanity and life. After all, although we write about animals which can act like humans, they are just figments of an author’s imagination (no finer example than Beatrix Potter and her children’s books), whereas no animals (as far as I am aware) have become accomplished authors or have the intellectual capacity to write about humans from their imaginations!!
We are natural communicators, writers, and authors. We possess a gift of rare wonder to be able to make ourselves understood and create from nothing other than letters of an alphabet. It makes me stop and ponder this amazing fact; the human mind has an ability to take letters and communicate not only factual information but abstract ideas and thus take a reader on a quest or adventure where that written world is as believable as the one we really live in. And so to end, Catch the writers bug and keep writing, but most of all to remember the joy and fun that writing and creating brings, firstly to the writer and then the audience of readers. Happy writing!