I confess, I’m an addict. I’ve been described as such since the third grade of elementary school. Although I’ve had many opportunities to change those habit-forming ways, I cannot. Why? It’s simple. I’m addicted to words. Words pour from my fingertips, onto my monitor, into the Internet and beyond while my fingertips rush across the keyboard. Words are rhythm to me. I hear beats when words are spoken. Passions when words are read. Like a dancer, I rhythmically write with words, expressing what my heart feels. Writing is truly a power, release, and passion. While writing, I find my fingers dancing to a graceful ballet, moving to a beat of words dancing inside my head. Finding just the right words to bring characters, emotions, and stories to life is a power. The writer creates the magic of the story, the plot, and characters, sometimes touching the life of the reader, opening the minds to the content and impact of the written word.
As a child, the words I scribbled flowed from a pen. I remember beaming like a light bulb when the teacher shared my stories aloud while in school. Even when I’ve tried to stop the word addiction, after piles and remnants of rejections, I’ve always weakened while vowing to prove to those who discouraged me that I am a writer. I find myself waking while the world outside is draped in darkness, crawling to my computer, performing a musical rhythm tap dance of words while others find restful sleep.
I’ve been asked by friends how I can sit at the keyboard and type away, while giving birth to stories and characters dancing inside my head. The only answer I have is, I find writing euphoric and painful, but since I’m an addict, writing is something I simply must do. I love the life of a writer, finding it mystical, peaceful, and dreadfully depressing, at times.
So, perhaps that is the reason I write – to express the words coming from my heart and soul, to educate others, and to take armchair readers on a travel journey or an education from the eyes and words of the writer. I have always found writing as an expressive medium to share with others. There have been many times while writing that I’ve slipped from the writer of the story into the character, discovering inner feelings, emotions and special moments where I feel sentiments I never suspected.
As a writer, I am blessed to live in a country where freedom of expression is permitted, regardless of the message. When creating characters in screenplays, I refuse to add erotic or offensive language to my characters – unless the dialogue is a reflection of who [and what] the character is portraying. My goal is to take the reader on a journey, exploring the education and knowledge I have while writing health stories about the beast of cancer, the embarrassment of sweaty palms, or the adventures I discover while traveling.
Recently while lounging with a group of travel writers in a hotel, a discussion involving our writing routines took place. I listened to an attractive golden haired woman describing how she remains in pajamas all day when deadlines are pushing. A distinctive, athletic man with salt and pepper kissed hair described a pair of favorite gray sweats he wore. Another woman stated she could only write while nude. We laughed. Finally, I stated how I could not write a word until my hair was styled for the day and fresh makeup was on my face. “Unless it’s three o’clock in the morning,” I whispered. “My best writing is during twilight, while the world is asleep I find ideas dancing in my dreams and I rush to embrace it, before losing it.”
When story ideas race in my head, I’ve learned to follow the muse and let it flow. During these times, I do not edit while allowing my fingers to dance the passionate ballet of music, rhythm, and beats of a writer’s concert with characters, plots, and words. I am an addict who will never change. Without the freedom of words, my life would fade into oblivion.
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