It's like meeting a person, a stranger, in the market. And over the high pile of yellow onions, while picking out the wholesome bulbs and remarking out loud, "They are mostly rotten today," to hear her speak in agreement, "Yup! These are not worth buying."
A smile, and the person becomes, in that instant, someone one can relate to.
I open an English textbook, Great Writing, a Reader for Writers, to read: "Aiming for contemporaneity, too many anthologies for writers avoid great writing; they may offer readable, serviceable samples, but they rarely show our language at its best or address the great intellectual issues of our civilization."
Right then and there, my heart swells. I love the author(s) of these compelling lines. I can relate to him. To her. (The book was co-authored by Harvey S. Wiener and Nora Eisenberg)
Strange thing! I am poring over the pages, yet it is the author(s) who reads me instead. "As you write, you too will move from states of frustration and despair to states of exhilaration; that is all part of the roller coaster a writer will ride to a finished draft."
Mother, Engineer, writer, manager, and more. I am a bit of everything, a creature of God. I am passionate with life. I fear death and its many forms. I love my mind, cherish my body. I express through WORDS.