It was a dark and stormy night.

Writing is something you do even if it is not your chosen profession, because communicating with others is a mandatory function of your being. Like breathing. And eating. And falling in love.

Writing as a way of life

I write anywhere, anytime, and anyplace that there happens to be a pen and even the smallest scrap of paper on which to scribble. First thing in the morning, I write by hand in my journal. Then, for most of the rest of the day, there is my well-used computer on which I type for hours electronically. On those occasions when I am out in the external world, I make sure I am accompanied by a yellow-lined pad and a multitude of pens, in case one runs dry while I am in the middle of committing a thought to paper. In bed at night, I have pen and paper no more than arm’s length away, just in case an idea crosses my mind that must be recorded immediately, lest it be lost in the abyss of sleep.

Writing as immutable evidence of life

Whenever you write about your thoughts and feelings, or record your life experiences in the written word, you are making a date with eternity and challenging it to carry you along on its endless path into the future. Your written history is your most sacred truth, and once you have committed it to print, no one dare revise it without also daring to revise the history of others.

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One Response to It was a dark and stormy night.

  1. Kristine Healy

    Roberta,
    You have inspired me to do what I need to. Thank you so much!
    Kristine

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