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Making It All Mean Sense

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Writing comes and goes for me.  I go through periods in my life when I feel the “muse” as some folk call it, and other times when I just sit there, looking at a blank screen.  Interesting state of affairs, as most people know how much I love to talk.

One of the most important things I have discovered about writing is to just begin doing so.  You write one word and then another, and another, and another.  Somehow, within the mix of the moment, the words begin to blend and shape a thought that leads to another that leads to another.

You keep going and as you write, the words begin to flow and you realize you have tapped into the rhythm of a particular notion that has been waiting to be realized, to be presented to the world.

I struggled desperately against writing when I was younger.  Although I felt I was quite good at it (always falling in love with the words that came from my lips – I knew they weren’t mine) I didn’t like committing to it, mainly because my father, who was an astrologer, told me it was something I was destined to do.

You know how it is, when we are young we balk against everything we are “supposed” to do.

While I am slightly disturbed that it took me so long to pick up my pen, I am also aware that had I begun writing at an earlier age, I really would have been twiddling my thumbs because I would not have had much to write about.

You will really get tired of me now.  I’ve lived a little and I have a LOT to say.  I hope you will enjoy.

 

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