. Spinning .

It’s like opening the floodgates, or holding back the ocean. Which will it be and why?

Driving home my fingers tapped out a rhythmic story on the keyboard of the steering wheel. Alas, no “Save” feature on the dashboard of my Honda, and all my thoughts were left for literary forensics to decipher.

I did have the pleasure of a brief chat with a friend and fellow writer, and learned a bit more about her and her thinking and her dreams. I wish I had the power to encourage and inspire others the way I sadly need these things myself. She is young, and I am not, and any idealism I may have had is tempered by experience and lack of knowledge and of time. Strange, but one often finds oneself in explaining him/herself to others, and a flash of recollection hit shortly after class. My friend asked about my state of mind, based perhaps on the latest writings in this log. I almost feel elation at the thought of achieving enigma status; a personal image I have strived for in my young and wilder days. How am I to explain though, that I haven’t really planned this, and control is not exactly in my grasp. I really am at least two people, because I’ve learned not to attempt to compromise them into one hypocritical shattered personality. Each free to go their own way, they are a happy lot, and there is little I can do about it anyway. I probably prefer the lone eccentric writer of the group, but cannot in fairness deny my other children their run across the field, for Susie Writer is prone to leave chores unattended and even fail to eat, so other siblings must make up for what she lacks.

Or I suppose of course–though I may look quite matronly and normal–that I may simply just be getting more weird with age.

Check out when you can, a couple links on this page to Creative Writing students’access to their work in progress—it’s rare (except with me, I suppose, who lays my soul bare to the world at large in desperate need of a kindly pat on the head or even blatant disapproval–anything at all!) that writers will grant you a peek at their efforts. Coonce-Ewing, and Jason’s Blurty offer up drafts of their stories, and I think you’ll be engaged by the writing styles and voices. They also hold themselves up to comment, and writers often have the largest but most fragile of egos and this is their eternal contradiction. I am still in search of others who will share stories and critique. This blog idea will not be solely focused on me (although I do enjoy center stage sometimes!) and I dare others to join the disharmonic celebration of a passion and a curse. (Sorry for the odd voice, but Edgar’s the only one listening to me right now and he loves it when I’m odd.)