On writing

It calls me, more and more these days. The less time I seem to have the more it beckons me.

The ideas that pour into my mind tease me, taunt me … like a carrot dangled in front of a horse to make it walk forward, or even run.

When I have to write because I must, I end up staring at a blank screen. I’m like a pen whose ink has dried up.

Let the letters, words and sentences flow in their own good time and I’ll tell you a story, or ten.

How does one tread the fine line of living to write and writing to live?

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One thought on “On writing

  1. Reminds me of a Gore Vidal quote: “I wanted to be a politician. But unfortunately, I was born a writer.”

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