“To me, the greatest pleasure of writing is not what it’s about, but the inner music that words make.”
On Writing More
I’m glad that I’m not a writer. Those guys write for six hours every day. It is hard to imagine Tolstoy writing War and Peace in some cold dark room in Russia. Did he use a quill and an ink bottle? That kind of writing dedication is for the insane. Insane geniuses and we love them.
They work at their craft all day long, every day. The proof is in the quality, not the volume. All admire those guys who put out great novels. Seriously, one doesn’t sit down one afternoon and dash off a classic. To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee was the product of a lifetime, even though it was her sole work.
All that writing by those guys, sometimes I like what they say about writing itself. They are working on it all of the time!
I’m not sure how to describe myself, maybe Playing at Writing. Kind of like a toy, seeing what it can do and how it can entertain me. Liking to pay attention to the words used as much as the message sent is part of the fun. It is a blog win for me.
My work is changing even though my voice is the same. Raymond Chandler said something like, “When artists begin to talk about technique, you know that they’ve run out of ideas.” It is a nice shot across the port bow. In my defense, I’ll say that you’ve gotta start somewhere.
One thought on “On Writing More”
Keep writing, my friend. If not for yourself, for your faithful followers.
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