The Who and Why

ME

 

I profess to be a writer. I not only profess it, I AM a writer. Hundreds of pens, pencils, four computers have been eaten up by my love of words. There has not yet come a time I succumbed to 'writer's block.'
Over the years when re-reading my day's work, my pleasure, I swear I don't know how my tale came about. Puzzlement exudes from every pore in my body. My fingers quiver when I read about places I've never been, describe people I've never met, give them homes, faces, names and I feel they have become my friends and even enemies. Lila's fabulous model's figure wears fabrics, patterns, styles that swim into my mind and I embrace them, sometimes fall in love with the unknowns.

 

There are few phone calls to me anymore. I leave it off the hook when I am writing. Do I do what all good writers do, read, read and read again the best work of well known authors, even their not so great stories, books? No, I don't want to emulate Hemingway, Dickens, Patterson. My world is my own. When I rest, eat, sleep, I can feel a new character begging to visit me. My fingers claw at my blanket and I get up in the middle of the night, start a story on my computer, file and save it to go full speed ahead when daybreak comes and I am swallowed by a huge Australian crocodile.

 

Once I thought I should consider publishing my hundreds of stories but buried the idea. As I put that thought aside, I knew at last that I was my own character. Bits of me jumped in my face when I looked over the last three stories I had done. My coffee got cold. The kitchen window rattled. Dr. My eyes were at half mast. Johanson, Mr. Burgdorf, even Georgia Brown were in front of me, were me in many respects.

 

I deleted Dr. Johanson, typed my own real name into its spot and tried to close Word Perfect. 'Do you want to save changes?' Microsoft asked.  Yes? No? What should I do?  Dr. Johanson stood in front of me, loudly exclaimed, 'Don't you dare remove my name. It's a good name you haven't used yet.' An inner anger I didn't know had emerged from Hell and I deleted Dr. Johanson's name, tried to type in my real name and my puter locked. For at least an hour I sat there staring at my Word Perfect story I wrote yesterday. Dr. Johanson's name had been inserted most likely by Mr. Burgdorf.

 

Relief filled my very soul. It is best that happened because I cannot remember my name. All efforts have failed. Today I will become whoever, whatever I want to be because I AM A WRITER, a good one, I think.