I looked at how writing affected one particular person and I thought about how it also affects me, increasingly, like growing hunger. I wrote about it late at night and didn’t share it in the morning. I want to share it now – at a much better time. God bless!
When you love to write, it follows you around. Notebooks stick to your fingers and leave their scent like fragrant glue. You can’t get enough of it, when you love to write.
Notebooks in your bathroom, notebooks in your car – pencils in your cupboard if you could. I’ve taken a shine to writing on the fronts and backs of paper plates; when the inspiration hits, you don’t want lack of proximity to normal products to keep you from living.
A love of writing is an accurate accounting of life. Writing is a gift from God, just like life… it records everything of blood and pulse onto the empty page. To writers, pages are never empty; indeed, they’re always full and just waiting to be emptied onto other pages again and again.
I spill out on pages all the intentions of my heart which spill onto other pages, filling book after book…
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