Don’t you hate when the last main conversation of the day lies heavy with the price tag of a good night’s sleep? After the writers meeting…
Writers who want to write—a large percentage of the population. Literally, almost everyone is a writer, and everyone has a story certainly.
Writers who need to write—a much smaller group. Not necessarily even the crème de la crème of writing ability, but those who suffer from indigestion of facts requiring a coating of the soothing Pepto Bismol of imagery. There are more bad writers burning with desire than there are good; but God bless them, every one.
And this: What serves for inspiration to explore, learn and race ahead? Role models, certainly; Edgar’s done more for me and others as a tragic and dramatic author whose concepts and tale-telling abilities beat just as strongly in our hearts with drama as did in his. A penchant for fantasy perhaps, or righteous indignation at the current state of humankind.
Or for some, when the horizon comes into view and shocks one with its layered sunset colors in a beauty that strikes the blackness of the earth against the sky. And that which never was a real reality becomes the focus. And the darkness of the nightfall turns instead to light the coming day.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology