Disclaimer

You don’t know me…

I’m a writer.

How could you? These words that I paste to the page that fills your mind: it’s all you see. It’s all you hear from me. But I am not my words, I am more, I am less, but you know nothing of me without them. So I write and speak and sing and paint and create the world over again.

Long ago I used to wish that I could be a witch. I wanted to be able to cast spells on people and put them into trances. I wanted them to obey me, to like me, to be nice to me. So I learned how to read, and I read every magically stunning book I could find. Every spell between those pages captivated me with their poetry. And as I read tales of the Shire, Hogwarts, and Camelot, I paid very close attention to how the writer was able to spellbind readers. I listened to what my teachers told me to do with my writing. I tried to apply what I read from the greatest writers into my own poetry.

I’ll admit, at first I wrote to be able to please my teachers, and soon I wrote because my class liked it too. I met friends who also loved writing and we would revise each other’s works. My views of the world shot open to new possibilities in plot and characters. There was an element of writing that I loved, a sort of evil, dark side. In this realm I was able to use my writing to portray the darker side of society, the dregs of life that were left unnoticed. Here I can try to give my writing a “feeling,” and like a parasite it can worm its way into the subconscious and take root there, radiating feelings and more ideas. Sometimes these are good, sometimes these are bad

But, like any creator, I must take responsibility for what I have created. I understand this and I try to only plant good thoughts and ideas. Sometimes, I am worried that what I write has too much effect on people. They think that what I write is me, which is only half true. I am not my words, they are more than me because they can live on without my speaking them. They can have meanings that I don’t even understand. But, more importantly, they are less than me. They cannot tell my entire story, and I wouldn’t want them to. They will never be able to form themselves to properly represent what it feels like to play the New World Symphony, to be at the top of the mountains, to watch the sunset on the best day of your life, to watch someone leave with your heart, knowing you couldn’t take it back if you wanted to. 

I'm an artist, not a naturalist. What you read here is not me.