Writers write because….
He struggles; internally his emotions are a tangle as he sorts through the labyrinth of his own mind. On the outside he is calm, a placid lake. He chews his pen and contemplates his next piece. Like the artist, with their visual minds, a writer can see their finished work. It is sometimes a distant horizon, an unsure future over a faraway hill, and yet the writer knows it is there. Much like a blind man can still feel the warmth of the sunlight on his face, so too can the author feel something important is about to climax.
His pen moves like a paintbrush, painting the canvas of the reader’s mind with tales and stories never seen or heard before. It is this foreign invasion of ideas and dreams that draw people to reading. It is why the writer is. The pen may just be mightier than the sword…
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