I love to write. It is one activity that allows me to play within the boundaries of my mind, to explore ideas and share them using only words. Where do ideas come from? What sparks a group of thoughts into a plot? It’s magic. The magic of writing.

Even the physical act of writing fascinates me. Ball-point pen or pencil scratching across the surface of paper creates a tactile response to the story unfolding in my mind. The clicking sound of the keyboard and watching the cursor beat a rhythm across the screen prompts me to continue playing with words. It’s an exchange of energy. Then as I write, my critic steps in to evaluate that energy changing it from excitement to frustration then back again. Will these materials ultimately become a manuscript or be deleted with a keystroke?

Warning! Writing requires courage. A part of who I think I am is on parade for others to applaud or not. And it doesn’t matter which. The act of writing is a dare-devil adventure. It’s a mental thrill-ride in Literary Park, struggling up the tracks as high as the car will go, then plunging down at speeds immeasurable. It’s only an exploration of myself, I say. Yet, sometimes it takes my breath away.

Words transcend time. They live in simultaneous multiple dimensions. I consider it a responsibility to learn to write well, to take mental images and wash them in such a way that they make sense to someone else. Will this idea be caught by the current and flow, or be snagged in midstream? Will it be stuck on a sandbar where there is hope of breaking free, or drift ashore to languish at the edge of some stagnant story-stream? Thinking about it overwhelms me at times. I want to quit.

Curiosity always overcomes fear. Hope, my mental Pandora, hands me a box. It’s full of wonderful, new ideas I didn’t consider. And words that promise to create a terrific story if only I put them together in just the right way. Okay, I’m hooked! My life, my curiosity, and my unique perception are wasting paper again.

Writing is like all other forms of art. Tremendous fun and tremendous work at the same time. What advice do I give to myself as a writer? The same advice all artists need. Pay attention! Pay attention to the life you live, the one that surrounds you, and the one that threatens to swallow you up when you’re not being watchful. Take every opportunity to appreciate life’s paths as they open. Accept all challenges!

Cats, they say, have nine lives. Writers have many more. They have at least one life for every story, every poem, every book they write. And that includes a life for each story, poem, and book that no one will ever see—the ones that will never be published. (What a great idea for a story! Excuse me. I have to sit down now and WRITE!)