domingo, 19 de dezembro de 2010
Woe is me! Have you ever been to that little corner of your imagination that is only yours? That no one else has ever invaded? That is where I am now. All I want is to be by myslef, thinking of the qualities of space-time and measuring out the hours as they tick by. Fate opens new doors, but so far I have been offered no exit from my misery. Would that it should come! Like a glamorous lady in a long, lilac satin robe, or maybe like a new puppy dog. Sometimes it feels like life is just falling apart, that nothing can be done to escape the dread and the angst. I set out with a promise to my fans and friends, to avoid comma sprinkling and opaque argot. To provide only top notch high quality writing. That is a promise I have stuck to and adhered to through thick and thin, for better or worst. But I refuse to kindle my book. I shall post it online on the blog. My blog has taken over 850 hits since it went online, so the interst is there, even if converntional minds turn me down or fail to see my skills. My aunt always told me I had the gift for writing, that words shape themselves on my fingers. Like a whoosh they enter my head, crash, boom, bang, and the page is written. People ask me. I say I'm driven to it really. You have to get that paragraph down, you have to slog away at it until it is just right. Yes, we crave recognition, we desire to see our words in print between two hard covers. Yes, we want to give autographs and clear up readers' doubts. We want to formuleight new characters and plots. But the basic drive is within oneself, not an external force. Whether heathen, Muslim, Christian or Jew, we want readers to like our texts. That's where it's at I suppose, but the internal drive is a force so great, so unstoppable, so unputdownable. Words fly from my fingers. When I look back I say that it can't have bene me who wrote this, but it was. It's a force beyond reckoning and yet you have to reckon with it because it is a force to be reckoned with. A rodomontade of thought, a plethora of heart and a dollop of graft. I will not give up. But it hurts so much just right now, oh woe is me!