As a writer, I literally feel the need through my arms to write or type my thoughts out. It’s a strange feeling, maybe similar to those who paint, run, cook, sing, knit, swim, whatever. The physical drive to do what I do.
I’ve sat here today and earlier this week thinking and typing out rough draft after rough draft only to delete all the words. I’ve wondered if those words should be written. Given the potential audience, is that subject something I really want to draw attention to? What if in sharing I end up bringing trouble to my door?
Am I censoring myself…being a cowardly writer…or being protective with my selective choices.
That’s the word…choices.
We all make choices. This blog is my choice. I have it open to anyone and everyone…not that I think anyone and everyone reads it. However, a writer normally wants someone to read them. Words to communicate random thoughts, opinions, information, and just because. Because are we writers if no one ever reads our words? That’s an argument for another day.
Why then do I have a private personal, pen and paper, journal? Why not use an online journal for people to read. Why not just write here what takes my fancy…what makes my arms tingle with need.
Yes, I’ve answered my own question…because sometimes what we want to write should only be written for our eyes.
Does this blog posting satisfy my writer’s need today? Not really, but it fulfills my need on another more important need.