So Be It

Why do I like to write? Good question.

I feel energized when I write, I almost just wrote that it is a feeling that I can’t describe, but then that would make me a terrible writer and I would be wasting my time here, wouldn’t I?

My audience is not staring back at me when I write, no expectations on their faces or expressions of confusion, boredom or condemnation. I am alone, but in a good way. I know what it is like to feel alone and it is one of the worst feelings, I know what it feels like to feel alone in a stadium full of people. I know what it feels like to feel alone even knowing that people love and care about me.

When I am writing, I do not feel that way. I am physically alone, but I do not feel alone. The thoughts that create the words I write are running around in my head, just wanting to come out. I have a head full of them and sometimes this is one of the best ways I have found to get them to come out. I am not a babbling idiot when I write, or at least do not feel like one. I can write from the heart or from the mind and not worry about what people are thinking. Don’t get me wrong, I love the feeling of getting that little star at the top of the page telling me that someone likes what I wrote, I especially love getting comments from people (hint hint), but that is not why I write. I write for me. Sorry if that sounds selfish, but that is how I feel.

The question posed this morning was “you can become either an obscure novelist whose work will be admired and studied by a select few for decades, or a popular paperback author whose books give pleasure to millions. Which do you choose?” My initial thought, believe it or not, was to be the author admired and studied by a select few. I think of music bands that have been together for 20+ years that have such a faithful following that they have been able to hold on to their ideals and continue to create wonderful music, even though they get zero radio play and are not all that well known to the general public. (I posted a song below as an example from my favorite band) They get it. It IS about the music. I would love to just be about the word.

But then my next thought is that being so popular to so many would sure make my bank account look a lot healthier, so it would be hard to pass that up as well, but is that a good reason to write? Some would say yes, some would say no.

OK, here is my offer. Let’s split the difference. Let me be an author who gives pleasure to, I don’t know, maybe half a million folks, but let me be able to write so that my work can be studied and admired by a select few for decades.

That seems more than fair to me…..

See Ya

As promised above, below is The Bigger Picture by Dream Theater, along with the lyrics below it in case you don’t want to listen, at least enjoy the poetry that is music lyrics

Long before the colors start to bleed
I can see the painting come alive
Clever like an angel in disguise
Moving in and out of reach

If the candle lights this crooked path
Like a lighthouse peering through the haze
I will find the river through the rain
And I’ll reach the water’s edge

[Chorus]
Shed your light on me
Be my eyes when I can’t see
Shed your light on me
Be my guide so I can see
The bigger picture

Like a moth burned by the fire
And driven to the flame
(Prophecies’ a blessing and a curse)
I must bare this cross alone
There’s no one else to blame
With each treasure found
Another shipwreck’s washed ashore
I am carried by the current
On a slow and steady course

[Chorus]
Shed your light on me
Be my eyes when I can’t see
Shed your light on me
Be my guide so I can see
The bigger picture

What If caught in a moment
I get lost and can’t find my way
What if all along I was wrong
In every turn, In every way

Would you talk me off the ledge
Or let me take the fall
Better to try and fail
Then to never try at all

You look but cannot see
Talk but never speak
You live but cannot breathe
See but don’t believe

Wounds that never heal
A heart that cannot feel
A dream that’s all too real
A stare as cold as steel

I’ve listened to the stories of resentment and disdain
I’ve looked into the empty eyes of anger, fear, and shame
I’ve taken blood from every stone
And traveled every road

When I see the distant lights illuminate the night
Then I will know I am home

About joatmon14

Man in recovery from everything, looking for a little help, inspiration and direction.... Have spent the last 25 years working in big business, getting lost in all the chaos, not feeling like what I did mattered. By no means am I a professional writer nor do I even think I am that good, but it is something I love to do. Getting lost in a world of words, even for just a little while is why I started my blogs. In reality, at the age of 49 I am trying to find my voice. To find my passion. Maybe starting a little late, but better late than never. I write for me, I enjoy reading other's thoughts very much as well and look forward to the day that I can hold an extended, intelligent, meaningful conversation with YOU View all posts by joatmon14

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