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When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?
Of all words
A storyteller that enslaved you with my words so that you couldn’t stop reading my work.
At five, to be a writer was cute stories and the possibility to create without fear of rejection.
Now the most significant criticism is me as I feel each piece out as if each piece steals a part of me each time I lay down a word or line.
Sometimes I drain myself like a well that seems bottomless and helpless.
But I always recharge and find my way back to the words that sell my soul and make me a writer to this day.
I swear… the universe is a weird place… I used to think the same sort of thing when I was a kid… strange, thank you. You made me feel a little less alone and odd.
You’re welcome! Us oddballs must stick together 🙂
Right on!
Don’t be so hard on yourself!
Thanks, I try not to be, but it’s one of those things I keep working on.