Honestly, I can't recall a time when I didn't share my brain with a cast of characters eager to tell their stories.
This writing life can be daunting. I've had my due of elation and dejection.
Anyone who lingers in any creative field understands this.
But the paybacks, oh my, they make it all worthwhile.
I can live a good couple of weeks off one compliment or good review.
Writing truly is my joy. My absolute, undiluted joy. Did I say joy?
I owe my success to many fine people:
My parents, who always encouraged me to do what I loved.
Many, many fine teachers who nurtured my
beginning attempts.
My critique group friends.
Instructors at a number of writers' conferences and retreats.
Outstanding editors.
My heart-family. I didn't start out with you,
but oh am I happy we found each other.
And above all:
To the all-knowing power in the universe
who gifted me with a sense of humor and the ability to fashion stories.
I don't write by using an outline.
My muses absolutely refuse such control.
No ma'am.
It starts as a niggle, sometimes only a title.
They wake me in the wee hours. They yammer as soon as the plane wheels are up. They sing along in the shower.
Most times, it's as if the main character says,
"Ok, Rhett, sit your butt down. I have some stuff to tell you.
Your only job is to set it to words."
Trust me when I tell you, I have learned not to talk back or interfere. Whether it's a poem, short story, or novel,
I show up and do my work.
But truly, I love it so much I can barely call it work.
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