I am a notorious wordsmith; this is my obsession.
I agonize over a conjunction or a preposition.
Adjectives are dear friends to me,
But my descriptive pals must let me see
A word painting come to life on the page!
I don’t count the words to set my gauge
Of whether I’ve said enough or way too much.
I brainstorm the words in a mad rush,
Then go back to the start and begin again.
I cut and I add, question and doubt, change and rearrange.
It’s like a Scrabble game; you make the words fit
With the luck of the draw, bit by bit,
Combined with the letters on the gameboard in play
To select words in a new and different way.
Such is the story and frank admission
Of a writer of words with a crazed obsession.
Deborah A. Bowman, wordsmith
1 – “Writers are readers, and readers are writers …”
2 – “All writers are readers, but not all readers are writers—many readers ‘could be’ but prefer the mystique of the story and the beauty of words!”
3 – “Writers need readers, and readers need writers. One without the other is a blank page in a dark world.”
Mmmmm . . . In my youthful dream-state today. Who knows why? Maybe because its Sunday and the sun is shining? Maybe because I always have one foot in the dream world? No matter.
Which caption do you prefer?
None of the above
NONE—GET A JOB!
Fill in the blank: ___________________________________________
(my personal favorite vote) Depends on the audience
I don’t really care!
I feel justified by Walt Whitman’s endless revisions: “… I am a part of every person I have ever met . . . and what I assume, you assume . . . [yet] … I separate myself and I sing myself … and we are but Leaves Of Grass.” Walt’s quotes are like the wind, forever changing, so he can never be misquoted. I think he let us choose the version we identify with, so nice of him!
Whitman’s words tell me that we’re all the same, but we’re also vastly different. Even what I was ten minutes ago is not what I am now or what I will become ten minutes from now. We grow and change and evolve with every word we speak and every word we see.
Every word being perceived as perfect only in my eyes (“wordsmithing”) drives my mate crazy (just finish it, already!) but it’s what I live for (why write it, if IT isn’t perfect?). The joy of words is breath for the soul!