It's been four years since I voyaged out into the writer's open sea. Riding the waves of creativity. Sometimes feeling the serenity of the gently rocking. Enduring the torrents of plot. Steering along the pelagic coast with the safety of dry land on the starboard side and a dark fathomless body of water on the port side.
This seafarer is gliding calmly towards a weathered dock. Bringing the multi-volume tale to a climatic end. Feeling the wind in the jibs, squares, and spanker moves me. A return for only a brief shore leave before adventuring out again. Loading the hull with grammatical supplies. A cargo of bottled Merriam-Webster's, Roget's, and Strunk and White's. The finest nectar for the senses for a wordsmith to get drunk on.
From here, I will let the timbers rest. The lines to rest. As well as the bow, the stern, and the mast to be scrubbed and polished before pulling up anchor and return to the journey. The next great adventure. Short or longer it doesn't matter. Just as long as it takes me away. To find that pool to fill with restless creativity. With fresh prose. Steering into the heart of a whirlpool of self-doubt, blocks, and breaks. To experience the might uproars of gusts in the sails. The angry ocean waves batter the keel, blast against the hull.
Ah, the life of this writer. I want to breath in deeply the life. With a completed trilogy, my first goal has been met. I feel accomplished, but still the restless calling of the seas pulls me. What will be next? Will it ever stop? The suspense is terrible. I hope it will linger...
CSM
This seafarer is gliding calmly towards a weathered dock. Bringing the multi-volume tale to a climatic end. Feeling the wind in the jibs, squares, and spanker moves me. A return for only a brief shore leave before adventuring out again. Loading the hull with grammatical supplies. A cargo of bottled Merriam-Webster's, Roget's, and Strunk and White's. The finest nectar for the senses for a wordsmith to get drunk on.
From here, I will let the timbers rest. The lines to rest. As well as the bow, the stern, and the mast to be scrubbed and polished before pulling up anchor and return to the journey. The next great adventure. Short or longer it doesn't matter. Just as long as it takes me away. To find that pool to fill with restless creativity. With fresh prose. Steering into the heart of a whirlpool of self-doubt, blocks, and breaks. To experience the might uproars of gusts in the sails. The angry ocean waves batter the keel, blast against the hull.
Ah, the life of this writer. I want to breath in deeply the life. With a completed trilogy, my first goal has been met. I feel accomplished, but still the restless calling of the seas pulls me. What will be next? Will it ever stop? The suspense is terrible. I hope it will linger...
CSM
