Writing           t           r          a          n          s          c          e          n          d          s.

 

It stretches across time, people, cultures, places, and media.

 

Writing is a 2002 Honda Pilot, it’s a vehicle, vroom vroom. In other words, less confusing words, writing takes you from point A to point B. THE CATCH! You don’t always know what point A and point B are. Sometimes, perhaps even always, both the starting point and the destination are secondary to the journey. The Journey of the Pen is where the true magic lies.

 

I’m sure by now you’re on your knees, pleading desperately, fingers whitening from tightly clasped hands, sobbing:  “TELL ME CATHERINE, WHAT MUST I DO? WHAT MUST I DO TO BECOME A WRITER?”

 

Well, my dearests, you must be brave. Writing above all requires BRAVERY. Writers are soldiers entering a battlefield. Unlike soldiers, writers must also be vulnerable. Writing DEMANDS confident vulnerability.

 

Writing is meant to be shared. But simultaneously, writing is a private matter. The writer is alone with his pen and paper, but his thoughts…his thoughts are often the thoughts of every human. Writing is a curious form of ubiquitous individuality. It is Solidary Solitude. And it is Solitary Solidarity.

 

Writing is a bunch of fucking contradictions.  Writing is in the moment, but can elude time. It takes you from point a to point b, but to gain from the journey. Writing takes strong vulnerability. Writing makes individuality universal. A bunch of fucking contradictions, but it sure is great.