Writers are creatures of imagination. We sit staring all day at things that wouldn't catch anyone else's eye, words slither through our brains as surely as thoughts, and the tiniest thing can launch us into a world of stories and characters that we love more than family. We create, we make, we weave, we forge, we grow our words and sentences and tales. They're something that we care about and love with all our hearts. Each story we write takes a piece of us with it, sending it out into the world to be scrutinized and judged. On paper we put our reality, how we wish the world was, how it is, or how it will be. No one can take our talent away from us, no one can take it because it is us. Writing is a part of each one of us as surely as your leg or your tongue. No pen? No paper? We'll carve the words into our brains, say them over and over until they are forever part of us. We'll draw poetry on our hands and novels on our arms. We'll write ballads up our legs and descriptions on our feet. We weave our tales because there is something inside of us that is pushing to get out, spitting words into our minds until the drip from our mouths and flow to our fingers. Words make nests in our hearts and homes in our brains. They'll become your life and you'll be their master. We use our dramatic, theatrical adjectives, our bouncy, energetic verbs, our creative, strange nouns, and we love them. A person will spring to life from our very thoughts, giving life to the imagined. We carve them and polish them until they have all the perfect flaws and perfections and thoughts. We are them in our own minds, ourselves thrown into a book. We are them because Shakespeare is Romeo and Stephanie Meyer is Bella, we are them because we want to be. We are the words we forge and the sentences we piece together. We are there when our characters face their fears and challenges, we are there because we are writers. So whether you type or write or draw or carve, you are an author of your own imagination. There will always be the ones in which this gift has been placed, watchers among doers, whispers among yells, that's what we are. So now go and use your gifts, be the one who's words are read by all. No, I didn’t say understood, some never understand our thoughts and minds. All we want is to be heard, some may only grasp a sliver if what we feel.. I'll wish you luck now, and, I hope, you do the same for me. Good bye, and keep your gifts glowing.
We the Writers
March 4, 2011