Do you think I can join those who have the amazing power of words? To weave in the imagination of your reader a tale, a tale that can thrill, a picture that is made a million times over in the minds of each reader. Touching soul to soul with another person, evoking emotion, inspiring, teaching, conjuring genies, and soaring. Soaring high, high up without the need of wings, nor high powered engines. Soaring to the planets, the vast expanses of the universe. Can I join this club? Is there a way to expand that little spark inside of me that writes, that creates thoughtful little tales. That part of me that has been repressed and abused because of the voice in my head telling me that it is usless to spend your time on this because there is no way that I could earn a living by this trade. I have always written from my soul, it is my soul on display when I paint with my words. Can I be so vulnerable to allow others to view me in my neacked display of writing? To view my imperfections my mispellings and gramatical follies (like this beautiful little folly on display right now). Crafting with words is like crafting in any other medium, but it is a bit more personal. Not everyone who looks at your writing on a shelf, or even what you send them. Not everyone will take the time to give your writing a chance. Your voice could be kept silent on the page as people pass it by, yet there is that chance. Where you could speak from the dead, where you can guide those you will never meet or might never know, "a voice from the dust."
Writers craft, what form can it become for me? Could it be anything more than my impressions of the world, something that I dreamed up? Have I stopped dreaming, I suppose I have. Writers craft, I need to read others works. Their words ignite the fire, their words turn the key. I feel locked up inside, until I read and read again, words from the writers craft.