Writers create with words that become stories. Perhaps we work in the same league as photographers or artists.
The “piece” we create is either read or seen by others. But who benefits by our efforts?
Who cares if we release what we have created? I do. I write to learn, to bring to life characters who will teach me something I unconsciously need to know.
This is especially true now that I’ve begun writing “Ladies of the Ti-Pi,” a story revolving around six country ladies who are Good Samaritans for those facing a difficult time and who need someone to bounce off their ideas or feelings.
At a recent community luncheon, I casually mentioned that I was writing such a story to someone I’d never met before. She said, “That does sound interesting.” Another nearby chimed in, “Why that’s just like “The Red Tent,” and she went on to explain that that is a biblical story of when women had conversations during their monthly time in a tent.
Before the second ladies’ innocent comment, the writing of the story of the Ladies was gushing forth, the words tumbling out almost faster than I could write. What happened to stop this happy time of wondrous writing?
Perhaps I know why. It’s when I recall what a poetry professor would say to a student who began to tell him something he/she were writing, “Write it! Don’t tell me.”
Yes, telling can dilute or even stop the process of writing. Now that I’ve got that all figured out and think I know what stopped the joy of writing, I’m ready again to see what’s happening in the ti-pi, a really juicy time to explore. (Incidentally, it’s the same kind of ti-pi pictured above that was left behind at the Oliver Ranch by the Casanova Cowboy. Can’t say more now because his story can’t be released until after my WWII story has been published.)