Sunday, November 2, 2008

Good Sunday Morning. Don't forget to fall back to enjoy Daylight Savings Time. It always irks me, but maybe you like it, so please enjoy if you can.
I woke up thinking about my writing, my life's work actually. I have made my life around the stories, but I simply make room for the lives that come through me. I love my characters, and somehow I know each of them intimately. I wonder if other writers have this feeling, or if I am somehow connected to the infinite.
When I consider the latter, it seems to me that writing is a very spiritual occupation since it requires a very close observation of life and philosophy. Taking that thought further, I ask: "Is this my life and philosophy that finds its way into the story?" It seems to me that there are far finer souls in these stories than I.
I cannot say the right or wrong of this, only that I am compelled to do the work and send it out into the world.

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