For Love of Words

It all began with her father and mother. Yes, they will have to take the blame. They surrounded their daughter with sheaves of paper filled with voluminous amounts of words. The family dinner table was (and often still is) filled with inquiries, sharing facts, recommending books, queries about why things are the way they are.

Then it happened! She discovered that she loved to write. And so she did.
Throughout her vocational life she found herself writing for many reasons—most of them utilitarian.

While being a closet creative writer for a number of years—smudged pieces of paper kept in old ring binders—she started to think about sharing these thoughts on a larger scale. Freelancing and doing art for art’s sake is now a necessary part of life. So here goes!

WRITING

She wished she had lined paper and pencil. She did have a pencil! But the paper was still the problem. She found a quarter-page scrap, the back of an old ticket. Yes! Eureka! Bravo! But that ran out far too quickly.

If she had only realized that the gully washer was coming. But who ever realized that anyway? She did not know how long this torrent of words had been building up within her, but let the water rise!

The words were tumbling around in her head. It was an enormous Laundromat dryer full of clothes that had become too hot. They had to come out and now!

As she pulled out the first piece, it felt so warm and inviting. But the second piece had hot metal buttons that seared her skin. They bit her, and she pulled back.

There were so many other pieces that she really could not—would not—take time to suffer the pain. Who knows what other delights awaited?

She must always remember to bring paper and pencil.