"I love deadlines.
I love the whooshing noise
they make as they go by."
Douglas Adams
The Salmon of Doubt
My best writing is never created under pressure. In a controlled situation with an assigned topic, I choke every time. I feel confined and oppressed. Words do not come rushing from my heart. My emotions are confused and nothing joins together to make sense.
Let me take a walk in nature and I will be immediately free to write joyfully. Engage me in a favorite topic and I can barely wait to get home to spin a few sentences together. Captured in old time script, my imagination gallops until I am depleted.
Ink flows with segments of what I know to be true. I thirst after inhaling inspiring poetry, running to quench my dry palate with flourishing words. To journal a dream will trigger insights and meditation will reap new perceptions. The pen runs dry when a subject is impaled upon me without any sense of connection. My writing tends to be more up close and personal.
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