stockvault-winds104220Fair warning is given. The following is weird, unintentionally haughty and intentionally naïve. I present it to you only as part of the full disclosure bargain I made with you over a year ago. “It is what it is,” as my sister always says. Take it or leave it, but please forgive it. There is little merit here, I fear…

Writers are a temperamental lot.

Pride doesn’t accompany this statement, but neither does regret. It is simply fact. Like the sun is hot, and ice is cold, an author flips and flaps in the prevailing winds like an untethered kite.

I’m sure it is quite the sight to see from the earthbound, with giggles and gasps aplenty.

“Quite a ride she must be having,” the coal miner laments as he peers up from his cavern.

“Damn glad it’s not me,” the farmer adds as he turns back to his safe, reliable soil.

But it is the farmer’s daughter whose “Oh, Papa, toss me up there. I want to fly” is most familiar to the writer’s ears.

Each author has spoken such words at least once in their lives…for a kite does not become sky-born without a farmer, a miner, an earthbounder running aside.

So, remember dear writers while you twist and twirl in life’s storms, keep an eye to the ground. A farmer’s daughter just might be looking up.

Until tomorrow…


P.S. Told you so.


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