A Writer

It’s a magical thing. It comes unbidden and usually at the worst of times. A thought, an image in the middle of a hectic day where no time allows for even a brief note.

Fingers fly left to right across the keyboard. Thoughts and images captured in words flow effortlessly like a pianist swaying from side to side. Letting the feeling swell inside until the only release is to let it out for the world to enjoy. Soak in the promise of it as it soars into her being and out through the fingers onto little black and white keys filling the room – the world – with contagious sounds.

It’s the weight of a new pen. It draws the hand then the fingers starting with a simple list that leaves the page and words flow without thought. Aching fingers try valiantly to transform the thoughts to words on the page as quickly as the mind thinks them.

The neck aches, the words blur, the fingers cramp – it’s three in the morning.

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