I’m a dabbler and rarely a master, but I have my moments. We all do.
I have been a banker, a bookstore owner, and a broker. I have succeeded and failed at many things. I have been broke-as-a-joke and happily sustained. I have been told repeatedly that it’s impossible to be more than one thing, and yet I keep trying and more importantly, I keep learning.
There is so much to know and more to create. We are beings with the capability to love and that is a very special thing.
Play it, write it, paint it, and share it. We really can do, anything.
I am terrible at Chess, Risk, and long division. I recoil at the mere suggestion of strategy and I have a heaping disdain for predictive and presumptive analytics. I understand the irony given my faith in the religion of baseball, but it’s not a game of numbers to me, it’s something else entirely. The work of learning, plotting, and planning is a visual sport for me.
It begins with Characters like all good things. They come into mind and I ink them down to post them up, one by one. Pieces of the voices from inside need to be drawn out and named to come alive. Each piece with a desire to become a story is tacked to the stucco in a ritual of remembering.
Eventually, the pieces come together and a plot takes shape, and it replicates.
Soon it will be something taken down in print. My bedroom wall will be white, ready to begin again.
Thinking is writing, writing is thinking, bedrooms are for dreaming.