Hey. I missed you, words. For the past month, I have been wrapped up almost totally in others' printed pages, lovingly savouring each phrase and sentence, digesting the images and sensations delivered by the careful placement of each piece into a passage. As much as I love carefully crafting prose, there is nothing more satisfying than reading and recognizing descriptions and unwinding the narrative from the pens and keyboards of those who also play with and earn their livings from words.
How nice of you to wait for me, words. I didn't have writer's block. My muse did not desert me. Indeed I wrote every day of the week we were in Mexico on holiday, finding much happiness in securing a little spot of shade under a palm tree near the pool and bar with a table at which to scribble away on the lazy mornings when the others went to town or strolled the beach. I more than exercised the depths of my creative self there, so the break as it were has come since returning.
It's not that I have been avoiding you. There are other things to do even when what I'd prefer is to play with you, words. It's a mixture of obligation and regret that have kept me away, for if I can't stay long enough to really let myself create, I might as well be occupied otherwise. It's not procrastination either. With you, at least for now, there are no looming deadlines or sputtering editors demanding rewrites. You are my forgiving, tolerant friends.
Words. I have missed you.
Quote: "Curious to a fault, I suppose. I read, listen, watch and learn. My values align with Buddhist philosophy, especially the practice of lovingkindness. Words are my lifeblood. I am retired from a career that I truly loved and find myself missing the incredible one on one experience of teaching, mentoring and encouraging. I live with my wife, our two Springers, and our four independent cats in the home I grew up in. I have one son who lives in Halifax. Life is good."
ReplyDelete... And one Pony.
And I love my Pony dearly!
ReplyDelete