There’s a writer in here.
And I don’t know where she gets all of this stuff
…it just oozes out of her. Like its nothing. Abstract thoughts inked into existence.
And I’m like “WOW”
Did I do that?
Hardly. The words take on a life of their own.
There’s a writer in here. I keep her locked away –
In my mind
Where it’s safe
But every now and then she comes out for air
And she likes it out there
Where her thoughts can be seen and heard and shared.
If you want to drain her
Give her paper after paper
About topics she’s not passionate about
She’ll churn them out
But I can tell you first-hand that’s not her best work.
I don’t even motivate her
…that’s why she so rarely makes an appearance.
No initiative other than allowing the characters in her mind to live
In a space other than the stuffy one created by her imagination.
But I like her.
I want to see more of her. I want her to cultivate whatever potential may be there
So bring on the pressure.