I knew It!

Well, I did know it.....I knew that if I started a blog, somewhere along the way I was going to mess the whole thing up! I consider deleting not only the post I was working on, but the former post as well, messing up.

Fortunately, messing up is something we all do, especially people who write. If pressed I would have to say that most authors rewrite their books, novels, poems etc at least three times. And if you edit your own, well that's a long time, that's all I can say. So, big deal, I mess up. Hope you got to read the first one and if not, here's another for your perusal.

Why write? I write because no one will sit still long enough to listen to me ramble. I write because I am bipolar and my mind never shuts up so I have to have some sort of outlet or bad things happen. I write because I live in a world that does not exist, that changes moment by moment with heroes and villains, dragons and magic. Watching the sun shine through my crystal candle holder can send me to another dimension. I write to stay stable. I write the words of my soul. Some of you will understand, some will thing it rubbish. That's ok.

I would like to share a piece with you that I wrote about a year ago. It is about writing and other things Let me preface that when I put pen to paper I never really know what the ink will say. Truly, no jest. The words flow from my soul, to my mind, to my hand, through the pen and onto the page. It;s part of my other world......till next time.

                                                                    Sweet Dreamer
                                                                          8-23-11

     My dream is to write professionally. I have been playing at it for years but in the past decade a torch has been set. Profit would be nice, fame not necessary, notoriety delightful. I keep looking but cannot seem to find a way into the ever sprawling field. I'm an ok writer, sometimes good, potentially great. I persevere, all the while fearing it will go the way of most of my dreams. Why does the desire still burn so hot if God does not wish it for me? The request, made so many years ago, to lower the burn, has been declined. Perhaps not only will my body turn to ash but my spirit as well.

     Where is the way? Novels so cleverly lead their antagonists forward providing insight and clues. Although thwarted and diverted, it seems the results are always, or mostly, the fulfillment of the goal. Love and passion co-exist, lies lead to honesty, faults forgiven, old woulds heal, and bonds grow tighter. A sound reason for calling it fiction. It doesn't work that way.

     Lies are compounded by more lies, honesty is a myth. Forgiveness is conditional and love and passion never join. Love is dependence, eating away at personal sovereignty while passion turns to anxiety as dreams quiver in death. Destruction has many faces and the destroyer many masks. I may be helpless to control others but not myself. I cannot bring or give purpose to someone else, they must find it on their own. One need not force the willing yet the unwilling will not be moved.

     I will not quit. I will preserver even when others do not. I will not walk away or turn my back but I will step aside and leave others to their choices. I will follow the barely visible deer trail and find sustenance and shelter there. I will make my way and those who wish are welcome to come. Only time will tell who will choose.