A Writer’s Life

Trapped. That is how I as a writer feel. Trapped between the lines of the pages of life. Never mind that each word has meaning and not on its own. One word connected to another; subject and verb. “I eat“ “She eats.” Line after line and word after word. There truly is no escape from the pages of time. Or was it life? I lost track of time and went skipping line to line. (Laughs)
Stuck. I can’t think of what to write next. My mind wondered aimlessly through a collection of words called a dictionary. Should I use “Consume”? Or should I stick to eat?
Consume. I am consumed by the fact I must finish this or else. My very life depends on getting each word to come to life or it’s a dead story.
To me, to write is the very essence of life. It is an escapism of boredom. I become my character and enter their world. What do I do? How shall I respond to the circumstance around me? Am I in danger? Falling in love? What?” The possibilities are endless
At night I dream of being thrown in the midst of my story and acting it out. It is a lot different and I feel someone’s eyes are on me!
“Welcome to my world,” a female said
I recognize the woman and she is as I have described her– she is one of my characters! “Where am I?”
Suddenly I find myself enacting what I have written then I wake up.
I needed to take a break. Dreaming about my writing is a warning that I have indeed become too consumed with writing. Most people see dollar signs; I see words! I sighed.
This is a writer’s life and it is the life I chose.
The end.


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