12 September 2012


Mostly I just enjoy the soma of the pen. As if to spill the ink is to drink from the well of relief, to breathe in release. It is colours too that attract me. And rhythm. The forms, precise; the words, concise. All unique, it does entice.

At last, there is nothing more to say. After writing for days and days and days, or maybe twenty minutes, it is over.


So the types of thing my writing study has covered so far are the concepts of story, plot, theme, point of view, characters, characterisation, dialogue, time, place, structure, style and voice. It was certainly refreshing to hear at university today that 'style' defies complete analysis or definition. Hallelujah. I bet they don't talk like that in mathematic's lectures.

My understanding of writing craft and story telling is growing. For me, this is not the same as poetry. I might consider my writing poetic, but this is very different from writing a poem. Writing a poem for me is about purity. The purity of beauty reflected in joy, even in sorrow.

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