The Hider

The arrival of a thought. To write or not. Trusting. Believing. Fearing and doubting. Why does it seem so easy for other writer's to let go of what falls from their fingers? How can you begin to grow forward?

Treasure

Most teachers command, "There are rules you have to live by in order to be looked upon as being a writer." Writer's are faith keepers. But for how long? How many brilliant writers fell short of living up their expectations due to the casting of opinion by readers that elected not to travel the trail of tales invited to the surface by the writer? There are just as many writing styles as there are different animals on the face of the planet. Keeping you from believing in yourself is an addiction to acceptance. What if you believed in the style of writing you were given at birth? What if what you hold just needed support from the body that's been carrying it around hidden in a soul no longer strong enough to tackle the guilt a reader tosses out like candy at a parade? What if you gave yourself permission to do it your way?

Moods

Being part of a creative circle. Doesn't guarantee the journey. Getting locked into an outlet. The mental overthrowing of all things normal. In reality. Is the very reason why most people choose not to be creative. I'm not in the mood. Isn't "Art" a mood? Writing. The act of setting the mood? Moodiness. A person blessed with the opportunity to feel the shapes of multiple collaborations. The longer you create. The more you learn how to separate. Who is the writer? Why has the painter slash illustrator suddenly presented his or her face? I didn't invite the editor! What do you mean the interviewer. The inner self that asks endless amounts of questions is sitting outside the bathroom? I penned out a song in 2009 called Daily Writing. I turn the page. A thousand personalities rush to the edge. If I could paint a face. I'd show you every mood I'm in. Rustic days and endless nights. Feelings inside too strong to fight. Going home to be left alone. Julia's way. In artist clothes. Don't wanna run. Can't find the sun. Don't wanna hide. Shadows steal from the artists eye. Julia taught me how to change my way. To paint with words every day. Going home to be left alone. Julia's way. In artist clothes. A quick glance at your reaction. Puts a memory into place. Got no idea why this happened. Guess God was mad at me that day. Numb doesn't mean empty without feeling. Numb only seems like nothing. For a heart feels something. To be left alone. Going home to be left alone. Black pen. White pen. Just let me in. Give me a pad of paper to release what's in. Living on the edge of a Poet's nib. It becomes my blood. Giving life to love. Going home to be left alone. I'm just an artist in human clothes. Kind of weird. How admitting. That you're a writer. Opens the floodgates. To moods. Permission slips to feel. The acceptance of a faceless beast. And if we could. Writer's would push them away. But elect not to. I've always believed it's because the final page of a mood in motion. Is art. That would've been kept inside the heart beats of a living imagination. If being in a mood. Didn't surface to reality level. So... when someone tells me, "I'm not in the mood." The writer steps back. To study. To view from a slanted curve. The presence of a body, mind and soul. So selfish to be so protective. Of their art. Into their eyes I do stare. Searching for the key. To open the door. For if I feel there's art in there. My moods of multiple shapes and sizes are professionally trained to truly make you upset. So that I can have access to the art you keep hidden from the world.

Attempt-Tation

Listen to the story on I Heart Radio What is writing? But an act of attempt-tation. Tempted is the imagination. So easily soiled by the actions and lack of from the passerby willingly giving only to find...what's been written rarely if ever has anything to do with them And if it did. Congratulations. You just won a cameo within the words of expressions. Writing about someone you know is no different than bumping into a stranger at Old Faithful at Yellowstone National Park. The moment you put into ink the stains of relationship. The mindless trips we take as writer's is the difficulty of maintaining how true we are to remain. People, places and things change endlessly. The attempt-tation is to bring to the surface of a page the elegance of a reader seeing exactly what has been painted. But how many times does the passerby happen to bring to their lips, "I don't get it." Or "This isn't my style of book and or blog to read." Writer's and authors aren't sensitive by choice. Attempt-tation. The attempt to bring food to the imagination is the encouragement of being open. Wide open. Exposing the color of the scented dust and cobwebs unevenly positioned on the back wall of a very tall mountain aimlessly peaking upward like a bad mood on the rise. Attempt-tation. The attempt to expose. To lay out. To unfold the what ifs. The could be's. The nifty cool Hollywood like drama filled scenes that make 50 Shades of Gray look a little purplish. Writing is just like painting a canvas. There's fascination and infatuation driven into the seams of a surface based on the delivery of adding nudity to the resume. The passerby stops to materialize. They hem they haw. They sometimes giggle but hardly if ever wiggle. One might want them to look away but the passerby stays. The attempt-tation finds no faith in having to easily explain. Writer's do a lot of stopping. Push. Pound. Sort out. Swiftly move paragraphs to the side. While unearthing new characters to bring up from the dirt to stand unsteady on an invisible ground. Attempt-tation is having the guts to bend a super hero at the waste and make them weak. To make not nice and destroy a family home by a secret not yet lived. But the writer knows it's coming. I don't hide my writing. But I'm quiet in sharing it. Seven books deep and I'm still stepping in the uneducated articulation of other people's opinions based on just being in the wrong place at the right time. Attempt-tation. Having all out courage to be discouraged. Accepting the fans of your creative way as being the meanest most misunderstood people on the planet and yet the weekend block parties wouldn't be the same without them. Attempt-tation is having a complete warehouse of multiple lives as a writer and finally after being numbed by every medication on the planet. You begin to realize. The difference between you and them. Your attempt-tations are read. While they seem to always keep everything in.