Writing is a vehicle for the impressions, thoughts and feelings generated in my being when verbal expression is somehow deficient. I haven’t written a lot in my 52 years, in fact I didn’t write anything meaningful until the cold fingers of personal tragedy clawed their way into my life, crystallizing the river called my soul.
I have always been one of those people who can’t resist picking up and smoothing my fingers over the cover and empty pages of a beautiful journal, humble composition book or notepad, or opening a book and sticking my nose inside to smell the distinct aroma of words on paper and agedness. Pens and pencils, colored and not, abound in the drawers of my house and the pockets of my backpack, my favorites relegated to that carefully selected place of honor in whatever form of luggage I am currently carrying.
Even the act of putting pen to paper and forming letters leading to words is akin to an act of worship. I say that carefully as my personal religious beliefs are quite specific when it comes to worshipping other deity’s (lol). And so you would think that I would revel in the desire to write, after all what an opportunity to gleefully put quill to paper and neatly realize my cravings as part of the process.
I tried. The stack of unfilled journals in my house attest to my sincere devotion to the concept of writing down my soul. The entries are sporadic at best and usually morphed into lists of various sorts (another one of my great talents is list making which isn’t a bad way to put pen to paper). I just couldn’t wrangle the elusive presentiments roiling inside me into any sort of graceful or witty fashion onto the page. Writing seemed so cumbersome.
After most of my children were out of grade school and making their young adult lives happen, I found myself working which included answering various correspondences. I did that job well enough but nothing sparked my desire to write like a nasty letter. I loved crafting the words to righteously fire back with a defense. I discovered how easy it was to formulate and write using the computer… it was so easy to delete, re-write, cut and paste and having access to an instant, digital dictionary/thesaurus was euphoric!!
I love the CRAFTING of it… The left side of my brain craves the logistics of it, how precisely I can convey my thoughts and feelings. Words make pictures and the work involved in finding the perfect words and phrases to frame the smears of color I place on my canvas is extremely gratifying. Writing for me is creating art and art is expression and now that I have a tool to build my thoughts with I write!
So in time I will be posting pieces I have written from the past and creating new ones to share. It’s a very personal window into my soul. I hope you appreciate it.
Connie Em
connieem 