Monday, August 06, 2012

Servant of the Words

Image attribution.
Writing is a compulsion with some of us. It's deep in the DNA, infused in the blood, whatever. One must write if one wants to be a writer.

So, a story about writing. I'm struggling with what to write for three articles that I have to complete today for The Confabulator Cafe. The subjects are wide-ranging, overlap, and are actually more personal than I'm normally comfortable with writing for the site. 

I've worked hard to keep a lot of my personal life off the web. There are things that are only for those people I know well to know about me. I relish the person-to-person interactions over just filling pixel after pixel with spew about this or that. I sometimes write about what I have to drink at night and it's come to my attention that perhaps I have a reputation other than what is true. So what, I say. Anyone who has that idea about me doesn't know me.

I don't write about my family in general on this blog, either. That's none of your business and I don't need to know a lot about your business, either. There's such a thing as oversharing.

My politics are better known than maybe I'd like them to be, but dammit sometimes you have to say what's on your mind to the audience you have. If you disagree with my politics, I'm fine with that. I'd rather have a conversation that's rational and intelligent about any disagreement and hope that both sides would come to an understanding if not an agreement. Whatever you think you know about me or my politics or what I drink, you don't know me.

Not that there's any danger of anyone thinking that I'm other than what I am. As vague as I can be, I am honest about what I write here. I struggle with all sorts of things, not much comes easy. 

I don't want to be all high-falutin' or anything, but what you get here is only a portion of me. And you should remember that about anyone who has any kind of presence on the Internet, including you, dear reader. Don't presume that you know someone from what they write. They, after all, are impelled to write by some inner working that turns the gears that churn out the words.

While I'm considering what to write for these three articles, I will keep these things in mind and that makes what I have to write more difficult though not impossible. So many times I've written things that I later erased because they were too personal. But I had to write them in order to work out whatever it was that was hanging me up. Some of them are saved in other places, some are not. All were written, though.

And that's the point. I serve the words and in the end they serve me, too. I lay them out for you to consume or not based on what I feel. In the end, no matter what else, they are an incomplete version of me. 

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