Word ****

I feel better if I write. It would help to talk, I suppose, but I am not much of a talker. Music has saved me, on occasion, but through escape. Only the stark, dead words on a page (or screen) can lay my tangled mess before me, that I may... strategize? This is surely rationalization, for I have never accomplished anything by a written plan.

No, it is just venting my crybaby emotions, that I "Must, like a *****, unpack my heart with words" (ty Prince Hamlet). Most of my experience I internalize, and the energy stagnates and threatens to implode in a black hole if I don't discharge it in some expression.

One problem with that simile: ****** get paid.

I've been told I write well. Sometimes I think I write well. Wouldn't it be sweet to be a professional writer? I could be--should be--as could many of the people whose stories I have read here. Imagine, to receive a paycheck for doing this. But then, marketable writing needs to be inspired; and the muses are being stuck-up *******.

So I will continue to put out my unwanted solicitations, and give it away for free wherever I can. And hope not to get some textually transmitted disease.
rattleschains rattleschains
41-45, M
1 Response Jan 22, 2013

You do write well. I enjoyed reading your stories.