Welcome to my inaugural post...sounds official, right?
In trying to find words and phrases to create this blog that speak to who I am as a writer, the juvenile "woo-woo" word sums it up. How do I tie my preoccupation with time, and all facets of it we've yet to understand, with the things around me I can't explain and feel a deep need to put on page?
The concept of writer and reader, as it relates to time, fascinates me--how months and years of grinding out the creative images in my head translate into a six hour encounter for anyone who sits down to read it. Time, is then, dictating the experience of the story. While characters sit at my dinner table, push their way into the mundane tasks of everyday life and occupy roads in my subconscious with only a vague destination, they are but a passing acquaintance to the reader. One I hope they'll remember like a friend with whom they've mourned losing touch, but never the connection the writer has.
Maybe that's why a writer's life is so alluring. Writers are hungry readers not content with placing a book on a keeper shelf or loaning it to a friend as a great escape. They explore spaces between the lines. Ruminate in themes and symbolism weaved in a story. Live just a little longer in the alternate universe the characters inhabit. More time. Never enough.
View out the window: rare snow