About Writing

I am a writer.
My writing comes from a dominant man - my father. He wrote, he sang, he played and cried. I remember being so impressed by his improvisation at the piano - a ballad about our journeys riding horses together. He sang about the things we had in common. I think he knew I needed to be reminded what those things were every now and then.
I am a writer because I have so much inside of me that is dying to get out. Isn't that why we are all writers? To say what our mouths won't let us? To get out the things that may explode in our hearts if we don't let them go?
We are all writers, we are all readers.
We read the faces of babies to know what they want or need, and we write about it when we give them their over-due bottle. We read the bodies of our lovers in the stillness of the night, expamining their shapes and twists and turns in the shadows of the blue streetlight. We write about it when we turn over and call it a night or we grip the sheets and give them a kiss or twelve.
We are all writers and we all have something to say. That something means something to someone other than just us. It could be a smile on a day where nothing goes right. It could be a wake-up call after a stormy night of slumber. It could be a slap in the face, a hand to clasp, or a cure. No matter what it is... It is something.

It is writing.

And writing is loving and praying and wishing and lashing and letting go of all the things that make you write...

... And then realizing that they are the things that make you alive.