I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers are very sure of their words. They rarely stumble — a stutter is unheard of. I imagine they effortlessly put down on paper the thoughts they have and can articulate them in such a way that everyone reads them with no other interpretation except the one the writer wanted them to have. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers don’t have a spiral notebook hidden in the bottom of the side table drawer. A writer certainly wouldn’t sneak that notebook out in the dark of the night and jot down the poems and prose and words and thoughts that pop in to her mind and when she’s done, she safely tucks all those words back underneath all the forgotten bills so no one is the wiser. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers write. They don’t stop to take care of their children or pause to run to the store for the forgotten dog food or jump as far away from an unhealthy marriage as possible or watch their parents die a slow painful death or run to the movies just because. Writers write. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers always know how to write from their heart. They never get their words confused and release words that should have stayed hidden. Writers know how to pull the thoughts that are causing the beating of their hearts to race and put them down on paper. They know how to sort through the broken musings and unveil only the whole thoughts. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers don’t have fragmented hearts. I imagine that writers write from their hearts because they all have perfectly symmetrical hearts ripe with emotion and the thoughts of a life lived in perfect harmony. Writers don’t confuse writing from a fragmented heart using fragmented words and fragmented thoughts with writing from their perfectly beating heart. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers have learned all the lessons in life, that’s why they can write. They don’t need to learn any lessons, they don’t need people to teach them, they aren’t perpetual students. Writers have lived and loved and done it all without regret so that when they put their words down on paper, the meaning is clear. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers can open their hearts and spill their souls out on to the page and let themselves be seen in the most naked sense of the word and they can be safe and whole and not have missing pieces. Writers are like the perfect puzzle that never has a missing piece and fits together perfectly no matter how many times the pieces are thrown in anger off the table — they always fall back in to place. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers know the difference between writing that brings about understanding and conversation and evolution as opposed to releasing a small amount of atomic energy that should have been left to the disposal of little men in hazmat suits. They think and breath and love and trust and open themselves up for all the world to gaze at. They don’t confuse revolving and evolving because they live and write from their hearts — their whole, un-fragmented hearts. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers write with wild abandon and are sure-footed and proud of all they put on paper. Writers are the teachers for us all. They have overcome all the lessons that life has handed them and now they can guide us to a better understanding of our own soul-searching efforts. We are all but perpetual students filling the classroom of their thoughts… hanging on their every word. Right?
I am not a writer.
I imagine that writers know when to step away and see things from a distance — the big picture. Writers probably know when they’ve gone too far or not quite far enough. They know the perfect words to use and how to use them… how to order them. Writers know how to write. Right?
I am not a writer.
We are all but perpetual students.
Learning.
Evolving.
Stepping away.
Right?
I am not a writer, too.
🙂 I think none of us are.
Thank you.
And in the end you are the perfect writer. I love you as you are Becky. Right? 🙂
Awww — this big smile has your name all over it!
Thank you Michael.
You may “not” be a writer but you are a joy to read.
Thank you — truly.
Thank you for taking the time to come here and read and comment — that’s an amazing feeling that is always welcomed.
If I had one-tenth of your talent and abilities, plus your strength, willingness and courage to face your “lessons” I would be 100 times better at writing and living than I am.
I liked your phrase “they have overcome all the lessons that life has handed them.” The perfect way to put it, b.
This is a very powerful post. I’m going to have to read it several times as I can not absorb it all in one sitting.
Thank you. I love you. *Big Writing Hugs*
Thank you Dani.
Seriously, I’m not a writer. I can’t disengage that well I think.
Thank you for coming here and being so
supportive with these posts.
Beautiful post. It will stay with me all day. Probably longer. 🙂
Amy
Thank you coming here and leaving such a nice comment.
I’m so glad when people show up here and respond — it’s always like Christmas morning for me.
I imagined as you did, but reading all the writers I read, I am learning otherwise. You (a writer) have taught me otherwise.
🙂
I hearts you big time!
Thanks for reading and commenting and friendshiping.
We write. People read. It matters.
Yes… it does.
And you are supremely good at it.
I’m not a writer, but you did say all the things that I used to think real writers are. You challenge and unify us with your careful, thoughtful, beautifully written posts. Thank you 🙂
Thank you Robyn.
That comment means so much to me — I hope everyone goes to check out your blog!
Wow. Wow. Wow. I’ve spent years buying and reading books on writing and still feeling like I’m unqualified to actually begin the process of writing. I want to so much to let all of this stuff in my head out on paper, not necessarily for others to read, but for me to see and hear and reformulate it into something good, but I’ve been stopped by some invisible obstacle. You’ve put words to that obstacle. Thank you.
Thank you!
So… stop buying books on writing and write, right? 😉
I think putting things down on paper and reformulating them is a great feeling, it’s like what we wish for in life, I think.
Thank you for coming here… now go write!
If those things make a writer, I’m guessing writers didn’t write any of the things I’ve read these many years. 🙂 Another great post Becky. I especially liked the poetic juxtaposition of “right” and “I am not a writer” in the flow of this. And oooh, I just used the word juxtaposition in a real sentence! I’m so thankful you have chosen to write, and that you do so from your heart, no matter what, shape (or misshape) it may be in at the time.
Ha! I’m so glad I can bear witness to your use of juxtaposition!
Thank you Sue — as usual, you got the point. Writers aren’t perfect beings, although I’ve put some of them in that position in my mind.
I like them (and me) better knowing we are all not-so-perfect and making it, struggles and all.
Thank you for coming here!
all those reasons ARE the reason you are. : ) and a better one than most who call themselves one. *gross* hehe!
~a.
Ha! I hearts you big!
That’s a HUGE compliment coming from you. I have started trying to sort out the writing since our meeting — Thank you for being in the right place in the right time for me!
And just imagine what you could write if you were a writer.
Oh wait a minute, you already are. Keep it up.
Onion Tower?
Thanks Swampy. You know this is weird but, I just was comtemplating buying alligator when I saw it at the store this morning to make your alligator chili and then here you were! I better go back and get that gator now.
Good grief that was good.
I am not a writer, either (shoving my spiral notebook away to answer my wife’s phone call about my daughter’s Christmas school paty that I have to help with arts and crafts.).
Ha!
Perfect!
Thanks for coming here and reading and commenting — especially in the midst of arts and crafts!
If you’re not, I’m not either. And being in a category with you makes great company. This was a really thoughtful post. (duh, they all are!) xoxo
Ha. Thanks Lisa.
It means so much to see friends and strangers here and reading and commenting — you, of course, are a friend. You are also an extraordinary writer/story teller, your honesty is admirable.
You answered every question about why I never call myself a writer and validated every thought I’ve had about why I do write. You teacher, me student. You writer, me reader. You are so a writer! ❤
Hahahaha! That made me smile BIG!
We are all but perpetual students! And this student learns from you very very often — thank you for that.
What an amazingly powerful post Becky!
You (not a writer) have made me realize more than ever: I myself am not a writer 😉
Thank you Estrella — and from your vacation too. ❤
Yes, not being a writer doesn’t stop just because we’re on vacation; and I couldn’t have written the particular poem and flash I wrote if I wasn’t in Sicily last month 🙂
**skipping off to read your new poem**
Absolutely wonderful post, Becky. ❤ #NotAWriterEither 🙂
Thanks Jordan — I had been thinking about this one for a while, really glad it’s getting a good response (especially from my writer friends!)
Thank you writergirl 😉