Do you ever wake up and just have to write? I have found that in the morning especially, writing is like oxygen to me. Perhaps it is because sleeping and dreaming and writing all have some magical connection that is a bit like a fleeting vapor. The memory of a dream or the perfect words you wanted to remember all seem to slip through our fingers upon awakening. Sometimes remembering what I have dreamt of is such a hazy memory, I wish that I could capture it in a bottle so that I could have it to refer to later and yet later never comes. And as the day goes by, I often forget what it was that made me feel so intense and usually feel the disappointment of forgetting the whole thing.
This morning I woke up and realized that I get up early for that very reason. To capture the words that dance inside of my head just begging to get out before I forget. So with no interruptions I try to duplicate the messages from my dreams. I have painted a picture or baked a new recipe in much the same way, In the hopes that in sharing my creation, someone else will as I often say…. just “GET IT” and connect with me in a way that is hard to explain. Understanding is such an intimate thing we all share in different ways. A reader’s response to our writing is perhaps much in the same way a chef might feel as he watches and waits for the reaction upon our faces when we taste the first bite of something wonderful that he just created and in turn, that small response makes it all worth his efforts.
(Sorrrrry, I just had to use this picture to make you guys smile!)
I can’t afford to go to a writer’s seminar right now but I know that whenever I find another writer in my own walk of life… someone who is also writing (or has written) a book or blogs…. it is like magic. Our souls just connect and we are bonded. I remember in seventh grade I met another writer who wrote because she just wanted to, no assignments made her write. like me she wrote because she had to. We became friends. We read each each other’s stuff. I am not sure why we didn’t keep in touch. Funny, I haven’t thought of her for a long time. At the risk of sounding redundant, meeting other writers is magical. It doesn’t happen as often as I would like. I mean if I were a quilter, I could join a quilting club or if I sewed, I could probably run into others who shared my interest at a fabric counter. But writers aren’t as obvious. There is no AA group at the local church for writers. And so I am grateful that I have found you guys and can at least, rub elbows with you cyberly!
Have a great Sunday!
In my love for a wonderful metaphor I dish this one up for all writers and ask you all….
: “Just exactly why do you write?” Use a metaphor to answer if you like!
The words come like oxygen as she breathes to take them in,
They happen with no warning for when they’ll begin or end.
She just has to go with it, as they dance upon her screen…
A recipe of words she writes not knowing what they’ll mean.
So she serves them with the hope that somewhere else on this earth
someone will read what she writes and they’ll somehow see their worth,
like a chef putting the final touches, garnishing his plate,
a writer posts their words and then silently has to wait.
As readers taste her efforts, taking the time to read,
she prays that somewhere in her words, they’ll find what they might need,
pricking the heart of someone who needs the words she just wrote
as they in turn leave her their own words in a grateful note.