Intensity

I have a mind that paces. It steps across creaky planks, stops, toes a warped board, loses direction. It goes slowly, wears a groove, beats a convoluted path. Eventually, it gets there.

Slow and methodical, I’ve been called. Not very interesting to watch. Never good at telling war stories, with the swagger that my former colleagues favored when talking shop. I’d rather listen.

But don’t assume I’m easily impressed.

the end
Photo courtesy of T. Al Nakib

2 Replies to “Intensity”

  1. You’ve described how I write, a slow pace, checking the warps and creaks of my story, taking a convoluted route because something is leading me there. Frustrating at times, this slowness, until I uncover treasures that otherwise I would have missed.

  2. Except that I don’t write! (laughing) But the best writers have told me that their stories take them places they didn’t expect to go. I know what you’re saying is true and that it requires peace and, often, solitude.

    Marsha, it was nice of you to post your comment here on the blog and over on Facebook as well. I’ll have to figure out if this new text box automates the duplication somehow, but for the moment I’m assuming it took extra effort on your part. Thanks.

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