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The Rest is Still Unwritten

We all have stories to tell, and often we want to tell them.  We want other people to hear them, to validate our feelings and to share their stories in return.  Writing is one medium we use to share our stories.  We are all writers.
Although I have heard that blogging is passe and has been surpassed by Twitter, I know so many people who blog.  While not all of my blogger friends are using their blogs as a platform for serious writing, they are all writers. Of course, not everyone’s writing is equally polished.  I guess that fits the paradigm, since not everyone’s story is equally compelling to others. 
I have been thinking a lot about the process of writing lately, as well as about the process of becoming a writer.  Here are some conclusions that I have drawn, in no particular order:
1. Writing is not a “demanding mistress” (that’s such a demeaning and sexist characterization), rather a “colicky infant.” In my experience, the need to write cries to me, insistently, at inopportune times.  In rare moments of grace, I am able to soothe the cries, to put my story into a coherent sequence of transcendent words.
2. Writing is not an occasional stroll around the neighborhood or a game of catch in the backyard, rather a daily, physical education class or scheduled workout with a personal trainer.  Thus, a writer must dedicate time in her day to write.  To become a writer is to affirm a commitment to daily practice.
3. Writing is never finished.  Or, more accurately, the process of writing that entails revision is never finished.  Unlike the clay, which eventually reaches a stage of dryness that denies the potter access to make changes and improvements to its form, the written word is at once preserved in stasis and offered for modification.
When I see a copy of my recently published book, I am struck by its physicality as an archive of my stories from a certain period in my life.  It is, in a sense, finished.  And yet, the rest is still unwritten.
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