By Leslie Lindsay
I can be having a totally bad, lousy, no-good day and as soon as I see my little office with my laptop surrounded by bookshelves packed with my best reads, I am in a very happy place. I guess I am a scribe at heart.
Lately I have been wondering what it is about writing and reading that touches me so. I don’t come from a long line of writers, per se. I am not sure that anyone in my entire family has every published anything, with the exception my my hubby’s dissertation (but let’s face it, who reads that?!…sorry, hon). I just like to write. And read. It may be because, for me, writing brings to life the worries, concerns, and feelings of others, of the human condition. When I sit down–pen in hand–(or now computer), I can have clear flow as to how I feel about a particular issue or event. It just works that way for me.
I like to make sense of the world around me. For some, they may futz around with numbers, charts, or graphs. They may plug things into formulas to understand something, or maybe ignore it all together. Perhaps they just like to tinker to learn about something more perplexing. Or perhaps they are writers, too and rely on words to make sense of the world.
I don’t know…and I really didn’t intend for this to get all philosophical, but well…I guess that is just the kind of mood I am in today.
Either way, I’ve got things to do and revisions to tackle!
