In Between The Chapters...

I've realized that there are certain essentials in my life that I am missing...

No longer have I neglected my relationship with God. Though I am best described as the prodigal son, I know now that I am warm and welcome in his arms. As a good father does, he chastizes me from time to time...

As a writer though. I am missing a few things...

One of them is a muse...

I've often stated, "I don't like to write love poems," or, "Love poems don't pay the bills." That's still true. I don't like to write them unless ultimately and divinely inspired. I have actually avoided writing about my love life in my book...I'm not talking about that kind of muse though...

I've realized that an artists work is often determined by his/her surroundings and that a muse may simply be whatever MOVES them...

I want to write about more than my experiences as a teacher. I want to write about more than being a pariah. I want to write about more than just pain, pride, and prejudice. (No cliches intended) I want to simply...write...

All I can do is write...

Writing is my ultimate survival skill...

I have FINALLY realized that a writers TRUE sanity lies IN BETWEEN the chapters as opposed to that which the entire text is drawn from...

Where do you go when you have nowhere to be? (The essential, internal, intellectual question of ALL writers...from Hemingway to *ugh* Zane)