Writing

Writing is an exploration.  You start from nothing and learn as you go.
E. L. Doctorow

I’ve always enjoyed writing.  I write fiction and narrative.  I write stories about strange places and characters with unpronounceable names.  I write stories about places closer to home, with people who could be your neighbor.  I write narrative about the person who could be your neighbor, if your neighbor were me.

I write about things to get them out of my head and onto paper.  I never know exactly where I’ll end up when I start writing.  I put thoughts down on paper and then seem to know the end of the road when I see it.  Every once in a while I see road signs, but normally these are just enough to get me going to the next sentence, the next paragraph, the next page.  These road signs never tell me my destination.

I wander through thought and muddled phrases.  My thought process is rather a whirlwind of senses rather than words.  I’m not sure how other people think.  Maybe I should ask.  It isn’t until I start writing down these wild senses though that I can figure out what they mean.  Words appear on the page without them forming in my head.  After I finish writing I can read it again to determine what I was thinking before.

I think a lot.  I write a lot.  I have had ideas for blog posts to try to put up, but they aren’t ready yet.  I still have ideas to put in them.  I still have to figure out what they mean.  I assume they’ll be put up on the blog eventually, when the time is right.  I’ll do my best not to forget.  More likely though, when its time for them to be put up, I’ll end up writing them again.  Things always seem to come together at the time they’re suppose to.