What does it make anyone a writer?
Technically, the ability to write and the art of conveying ideas well. Any can be a “writer”, but something makes few of them to be popular, just by drawing people's attention.
Any can be a music “player”, but few are real musicians. A writer is that one who writes a lot and has piles of papers written with things but, the art is pending on the colors his/her adjectives gives to actions, things or persons spoken of.
A writer has the thoughts of any person, but he/she has the chance to write them down quickly, with the hunch or the feeling they often come to be felt or considered. There are many chances when he/she gets enticed and forgets to write to freeze some notions of ideas, and sometimes I had some memories, with its feelings, I cannot convey to portray as words.
Yes! There is some minute regret for the missing records I did not kept. There are feelings I considered eternally lost, but life is like a waving ocean that often brings them back to the seashore of mind to be written or live up again.
There is something compulsory in writing. Sometimes one thing makes you write for minutes or hours. Something meaningless changes to be important, and I cannot tell you why one thing changes each time I try to understand it before it be written down ([FONT="]this last sentence took me several corrections to this final amendment[/FONT]).
Sometimes in my hut, that one I own to bring me peace of mind, a tiny thing becomes a river of ideas where I cannot stop drinking or thinking. I remember the time I went there the first, finding my place, and I felt that that was made “specially” for me. That was a lonely place! 13 years ago. No neighbor around, so it was my place (not now).
I can breathe a sigh remembering those 10 years I spent and enjoyed in that land. Those trees were my friends, the silence smelled like wood and everything seemed to be mine: I wish I can write more someday...
The only thing I miss there, at home, is the electricity power (Would you mind if I ask you to pray for that?). Living around dimming candle lights is not my best idea, but I cannot change my present state with dreams and I don't plan to leave all my papers forgotten, over that table piled with hard to read handwritten rubbish...
I guess some writers liked the honor to be read because this makes some economic profit and it is like living or being heard for decades. Perhaps no many seek fame, but money and, in my case, I write to be known by my children or whomever might like reading just one page.
My kids do not like to write or read, but I hope that will chance same way it happened to me. I remember some dreams I had and some of them where finally done, not like I would have liked.
I finished here: http://miladouff-mano.blogspot.com/2013/06/what-does-it-make-anyone-writer-draft.html
Technically, the ability to write and the art of conveying ideas well. Any can be a “writer”, but something makes few of them to be popular, just by drawing people's attention.
Any can be a music “player”, but few are real musicians. A writer is that one who writes a lot and has piles of papers written with things but, the art is pending on the colors his/her adjectives gives to actions, things or persons spoken of.
A writer has the thoughts of any person, but he/she has the chance to write them down quickly, with the hunch or the feeling they often come to be felt or considered. There are many chances when he/she gets enticed and forgets to write to freeze some notions of ideas, and sometimes I had some memories, with its feelings, I cannot convey to portray as words.
Yes! There is some minute regret for the missing records I did not kept. There are feelings I considered eternally lost, but life is like a waving ocean that often brings them back to the seashore of mind to be written or live up again.
There is something compulsory in writing. Sometimes one thing makes you write for minutes or hours. Something meaningless changes to be important, and I cannot tell you why one thing changes each time I try to understand it before it be written down ([FONT="]this last sentence took me several corrections to this final amendment[/FONT]).
Sometimes in my hut, that one I own to bring me peace of mind, a tiny thing becomes a river of ideas where I cannot stop drinking or thinking. I remember the time I went there the first, finding my place, and I felt that that was made “specially” for me. That was a lonely place! 13 years ago. No neighbor around, so it was my place (not now).
I can breathe a sigh remembering those 10 years I spent and enjoyed in that land. Those trees were my friends, the silence smelled like wood and everything seemed to be mine: I wish I can write more someday...
The only thing I miss there, at home, is the electricity power (Would you mind if I ask you to pray for that?). Living around dimming candle lights is not my best idea, but I cannot change my present state with dreams and I don't plan to leave all my papers forgotten, over that table piled with hard to read handwritten rubbish...
I guess some writers liked the honor to be read because this makes some economic profit and it is like living or being heard for decades. Perhaps no many seek fame, but money and, in my case, I write to be known by my children or whomever might like reading just one page.
My kids do not like to write or read, but I hope that will chance same way it happened to me. I remember some dreams I had and some of them where finally done, not like I would have liked.
I finished here: http://miladouff-mano.blogspot.com/2013/06/what-does-it-make-anyone-writer-draft.html