I have always tried very hard to make sure, as I am writing about writing, to be sure I do not presume or insinuate that everyone else should write like me. What works for me may not work for someone else, but what works for me might inspire someone else.
Today, I found myself being inspired by people who write in ways entirely unlike my own. Yet, in their own exploration of the art and the craft, I found kindred spirits and hope.
I think too many people dismiss writing for a variety of reasons, yet almost all of them spent at least thirteen years or more learning how to do it. Writing is what you make it, and I think the attempt opens pathways in the mind that are worth exploring for anyone.
So, whether you write fifty or five thousand words a day, write them. Mull them over. Savor them. Share them, if you will. Whatever you do with them, the effort will have been worth it.
For once and I know this is, YOUR blog and everything but it would be refreshing if you could try to write more often in the second or third person. Practice that wisdom.
As the sun relaxed, behind, the foggy hillside, It looked like it boiled itself into the ground. Then, a giant, winged creature emerged from the pink and yellow sky. It rose, to such a heighth and turned, toward us. As we looked up as it flew over us. A warm, white substance splattered on our faces. It was the ammoniated, fecal matter of the great, “Foo” bird. We all wore it home with pride.
Moral: “If the Foo schipts. Wear it.”
It seems that it would be less my blog if I did that, given that I’m reflecting on what I think.
“Yes, I realized that when I wrote the comment. What I was wondering where, a fellow could go to read, your writing in second or third, person.”
A fellow dressed for work one morning. Upon donning his socks. He saw, a small hole in the, heel. It would have taken, one stitch to repair it. In haste, the fellow ignored, the hole. Put his socks on and went to work. His day wore on and he never sat down, except at lunch. Upon returning home. He took his boots off and saw that the hole in the heel of his sock had widened. After laundering his socks. He repaired the hole with 9 stiches.
Moral: A stitch in time saves, nine.
So far, I haven’t really put anything like that online, but I may. Stay tuned.