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"I'm interested in things."

A blustery day in late December. We have a high-wind after until midnight (20-25mph, gusting to 40mph) and a flash-flood watch this evening and tomorrow. There have been a few holes in the clouds, so a few glimpses of sunlight. Currently, it's 60˚F.

No writing yesterday. I haven't yet found a story. You'd think after not writing for three months there would be several waiting, eager to be told. You'd be wrong. But we did take advantage on the sun and the warmth and had a stroll at the Botanical Gardens. A few of the turtles were out, basking. I called them the turtle's polar bear club. I assume all the others are asleep in the mud.

Bad dreams and restless sleep last night. Likely, I can blame the wind for that.

I leave you with a flood of Japanese maple leaves.

Later,
CRK




12:49 p.m. (yesterday)

Comments

( 1 comment — Have your say! )
ext_2024595
Dec. 28th, 2018 07:39 am (UTC)
' I haven't yet found a story. You'd think after not writing for three months there would be several waiting, eager to be told...'

Being a writer does not make you more interesting or wiser than others. It doesn’t even make you more eloquent. No, the interesting thing is where a writer puts his or her soul on display for all to see – which is a rare virtue indeed now days, because writers, like everyone else, tend to practice a fake honesty. So much so, honesty has almost become an extinct value in art as in life. We exist in a world of scepticism where people live to consume – wealth is the gauge for all human actions, success or failure is dictated by the cash generated, the profit made. And while we consume, we in turn are consumed by doubt. There is little place left for honesty –

However, in your own writing, there is honesty. Words strip bare your soul for all to see. This is, indeed, a rare virtue. And while everyone may not appreciate this about you, you should always remember the loss is theirs not yours. But remember also (and you don’t need me to tell you this) that finding the words and their context can be bloody hard at times, like performing an appendectomy on yourself with a blunt kitchen knife.
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