As I sit here in
my writing room I am reminded of those gone before me. The men and woman who
put pen to paper conjuring up the beloved stories most of us grew up reading,
and I can’t help but wonder if they to think the way I think? Did Mark Twain
stare off into space a blank sheet of paper in front of him and then out of the
blue he somehow thinks about a guy being swallowed up by a huge white whale?
Maybe old Mark made himself a cup of special tea before he sat down at his
writing desk? How about Edgar Allan Poe? Alfred Hitchcock, these men wrote the
most amazing stories but where did they get the inspiration? Did they walk
alone through the woods at midnight scaring themselves with a tale spinning in
their heads then running home to quickly write it down? I certainly don’t put
myself in the company of such great writers, but I do think we were cut from
the same mold. I don’t understand why everybody doesn’t write, who doesn’t have
vivid thoughts in a dream they can remember or stroll through a park and think
of something from your past that you hope you will remember once you have
access to pen and paper. My latest book titled ‘Raw emotions” is full of tales
that I did conjure up while walking in the forest or the park, they are tales I
tell of days past and memories good and not so good but each with a bit of fact
and a dose of fiction to keep the reader wanting to read more. I am sometimes
asked if I read my own books? The answer is yes, I do. I reach for “Raw emotions”
several times throughout the week and just pick a tale at random from the
dozens inside letting the words paint a picture which stays with me throughout
the day. I don’t believe I will ever become a best-selling author, but I do
think if some of those authors I mentioned read my work they would crack a
smile or maybe even shed a tear for another fellow writer who sits down at his
writing desk and stares at a blank sheet of paper, but not for long.
"Raw emotions" may be purchased in paper back or as an E book through Amazon books.com
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