Bleed

This marks an uncountable number of beginnings to my blogging career. On more occasions that I care to mark I have started again an attempt to keep a regular blog.

Not so long ago, I came across this quote from Hemingway; and it occurred to me, unsurprisingly, that I have been my own greatest barrier. I sit to write and start with the desire to find a clear topic, a clear thought line to unravel. In this, I am drawn in about a dozen directions and different thoughts – something inspiring, something heartfelt, something dark, something fantastic, or something meaningful. The result is that the actual writing never happens. With the inspiration of this quote forcing my hand, it now sit down to my… well, to my laptop (sorry Hemingway), to bleed.

I find writing to be one of the greatest escapes that exists. Whether it is sitting to script out my own text, or delving into someone else’s poured out lines; writing can take you away and call you out. The words we choose and our command of language help express feelings that would otherwise be trapped deep within us, fighting for a place to be heard. Tears can mean anything, but our words can articulate those tears. Laughter can be deceiving, but our words can give it clarity.

A good fiction unlocks a new world and opens up a vacation in the middle of anywhere. Be honest, have you ever cried over a fictional character, or laughed at a protagonist’s satirical banter? Because someone had the brilliance to take words and light them up! Have you ever read a self-development book that changed your outlook on life? Because someone had the audacity to make the complex simple. Writing opens doors and builds bridges between our future and our past.

Reading the passages of a brilliant writer is like taking a journey through their mind. Suddenly you see what they are seeing, the exact hues of that southern, sunset are vivid in your own mind’s eye. It is inspiring and breathtaking…when I read those types of authors I am struck with a desire to sit and reflect on a single sentence for an hour, while at the same time being drawn to dig deeper into the pages.

I do not profess to be one of those writers, but I do promise to be a lover of written language.