Writing is my calling. Sometimes the words pour directly from my heart onto the page.
Other times, it’s my soul that gets exposed.
Those creations are often the ones that remain secreted away in a spiral notebook or journal, too private for general consumption. A few of them make it into a document on the computer.
Most are locked away in the privacy of this writer’s treasure chest.
Some of them are more like blood stains than works of art. Although, some morbid artist might use blood stains to inspire a painting. Or prick a finger to add blood to the canvas she’s working on.
Here is an untitled poem from October 9, 2016. Hopefully it will give you an idea about how different forms of writing affect me.
so many words
a plot line, sub plot
all tied in a bow
with conflict and tension
more believable than life
burning from within
trails life on the page
fewer words with
a louder message
as much trouble
with less time
pictures a moment
deep in heart or soul
whispers barren truth
in short bursts of verse
Yes, the process I use for each of these is as different as the outcome. The above poem is a first and final draft. Such a thing will never happen with a short story. A novel involves hours of preparation before the first words ever make it to the page.
Is it the length that causes the difference? The content? The method of delivery?
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