Three o’clock on a Thursday morning, typing ferociously after only two and a half hours of sleep, when I should be focused on work. Recording and re-recording on my dictation app while driving in rush hour traffic, cursing everyone else on their cell phones and driving maniacally.
With tears blurring the pencil marks because it’s raining and it reminded me of home. Retelling of a place I question whether it’s a memory or something I made up so vividly it could be real.
I am a writer who writes when the mood strikes me and I don’t put down my tool until everything has poured out of me. I write either every day or every four months depending on when the characters command me to tell their story. I am the type of writer who bleeds onto the page, weaves tales as intricate as my veins, and paints the image in the watercolor of my tears. I am the type of writer who writes when my heart has something to say.