Lost among the creatives.

What’s in the mind of the writer? Is it the hypersensitivity to the surroundings? Listening to random conversations when in a crowd that forms a story? Do writers see compositions like artists do? Make connections like I draw lines or blend colors? What brings them together? Hope? The aching desire to be noticed? Published? Heard? What’s inside of them that creates that longing or is it just another self pushing desperately to be noticed? 

How do we crack open the chrysalis? Or do we let them bust it themselves? If we help will they be lame? Is the reader the mother bird that pushes them out of the next when they’re unknowingly ready to fly?

Social butterflies. Owls in a restaurant. They never want to miss a moment. Seize the day and herald their story which is really one they pieced together from bad grammar and experiences. Perhaps hopes and dreams need trumpeted. Blast your story from the rooftops. Help us see ourselves from another’s eyes. Is our world really that bad? Is our love lacking more? Are we in desperate need or should we celebrate another’s triumph and take on their personality as we follow the script.

Writers set the stage for readers to become actors in the story. They show us what’s going on that perhaps we’re missing. Are all stories messages? Call to action? When the book is done to we breathe a sigh of relief or do we look for more?