When you are a writer

When you are a writer, you write when the well is dry.

You write because the well is dry. You write to start the flow of words even when there is nothing but emptiness from your brain or your heart to your fingers.

Right now, it’s hard to write because this is how it feels. It doesn’t even feel right to write. It’s OK; I have some edits to do.

Actually, the well isn’t dry. It’s just these new filters in place are of the finest mesh I have ever come up against. Very little gets through. That which is caught is quite fine, some of it gritty, some of it as coarse as those pebbles we used to find in a pair of stone-washed jeans. Remember those?

When you are a writer, you write what you should, when told, and you deliver on deadline what is expected. When you are a writer, you write what you want, when the muse strikes, and you may or may not deliver it, because you’re not sure it’s what’s expected.

But you do like to surprise people when you are a writer. It’s a lot easier to write to people than it is to try to be eloquent while talking. I always forget something I wish to have said. At least when I write, I can go back and plug it in before publishing.

When you are a writer, you are not embarrassed by what you write. You acknowledge mistakes, but you own them and learn from them. As a result, your writing gets better, everywhere. I’m pretty sure I’m nearing greatness. It’s been that bad, LOL.