The Heart of a Writer

-
Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~William Wordsworth

Sometimes there are things that I want to say but I am so afraid to say it.  I believe that is why I took up writing fiction.  I could say that it was not real and it was just made up but deep down there is a glimmer of truth or the window into the soul, the heart of the writer in every story they tell even if it is fiction. 

Writers…

Our hearts are filled many people screaming and waiting for us to acknowledge them and tell others what their lives are about, who they love and who they wish would love them.  They breathe their sensuality into us and help us to feel what they feel so we can relay their passion and intensity with a fervor never felt before.

My characters…

They have a story to tell.  Sometimes in my sleep they slip into my dreams and they poke at me daring me to tell their story.  I have been living with them for the greater part of my life. It took a while but I finally found the courage to let their stories out and oh how many stories there are. 

Stories…

They are stories about infidelity, lesbianism, homosexuality, carnal lust, betrayal and every other emotion and feeling that afflicts mankind.  They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you love they will make you hate and they will make you happy that you had the opportunity to live in their world for 250 pages.

My heart…

My heart is a deep well. There is so much ready to burst free at any second of any day. I refuse to hold back any longer. Sometimes their story is my story and that is what makes me afraid.  Can I open myself up fully? Can I really make myself so vulnerable and let the whole world see things about me?  I must let myself be free to expose my heart or I cannot fully express the heart and soul.

So I write and write and write some more.  I will never stop writing.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Erotic Housewife Checks IN: The Depression of a Writer

-
“You cannot be a good writer of serious fiction if you are not depressed.” ~Kurt Vonnegut Jr We all know the old stereotypes of the tortured artist, the alcoholic writer. They play into the belief that artistic creative types seem to be more depressed or are more susceptible to mental illness than the average person. Those old stereotypes may not have been too far off from many famous authors, poets and painters. When you think of Hemingway, Poe, Keats, Proust and Van Gogh, you don’t always think of their genius. More often than not you also think about their lives and how each one obviously suffered from some mental illness or depression. it almost makes depression seem glamorous, yet it isn’t glamorous to the person that suffers from it. I know from experience. I am not ashamed say that on occasion I suffer from depression. Okay…more often than that. It is something that has plagued me for quite a long time. As long as I can remember, I never understood it. When I
More Craziness!

I is for...

-
Image
I had written and scheduled a post for today for the Writers of Kern Blog challenge, but something happened this morning and I just had to write about it.   is for... Incomprehensible “You never know how quickly a life can be taken away until you see for your own eyes…” In 7 th grade I remember playing in the gym with my friends only to look over and see a 6 th grader sitting against a window alone. He looked really familiar and then it hit me. That 6 th grader looking so out of place was my uncle, Willie Cobb Jr. Born 4 days before me, he was the son of my Grandfather Willie Cobb Sr. (half black and Native American) and Dora Santana ( Mexican) I know it sounds strange but my mother’s youngest brother was my age. It was difficult growing up to see him as my uncle… but he was. I walked over to him and sat down. I ditched my friends because he was family and he was alone. He had just transferred to my school unbeknownst to me and I wan
More Craziness!

My Sexual Journey

-
Image
My sexual journey began at a very young age. I was definitely a precocious child and began to have sexual feelings at an early age. Sex was not discussed in my family but it was definitely going on frequently. There are 9 of us and by the time I was 10 years old I already had about 5 or 6 nieces and nephews. There is plenty of sex gone on but no one was talking about it. So I obeyed the family example kept all my fillings to myself. An early age I use have sexual feelings for select girls. I was very interested in boys but  on occasion I would become attracted to girls. I shrugged it off and thought it was a phase. I prayed it was a phase. Coming from a  Baptist family and a society that says what I felt was bad…I prayed and prayed and prayed. By the time I was in high school I was utterly tormented by my feelings. I hated myself for finding women attractive. I utterly, violently wished that I was someone else. In high school, I kissed my first girl and that drove me into anothe
More Craziness!