As we get older, it seems like time is moving faster. It is as if we were a roll of toilet paper. As the roll turns, there is less paper–and life–left. And the we are simply out of paper. Such is the case with the life of the writer. What happens when the writer is out of paper? Does he really die? What happens to the paper? Having the realization that there is a finite quality to time is sobering. Therefore, many of us make the vow not to waste time on trivial matters.
There are times when I wish I had one something else–that I had made different choices. But these choices involved current passions. I have a natural tendency to be hard on myself when I think about this. In fact, if I let myself dwell on it, it is difficult for me is to not become depressed.
To many, I come across as having achieved success. But by what measure do we define success? Do we measure success by what others think or by what we think? Taking pen to paper is something I feel I am pretty at. I have been doing this all my life. I wonder if I could have been more efficient with just expending Bic pens and Office Depot professional writing tablets. Some things just remain the same. Right now, I just used up another tablet.
Success for a writer has to be defined by what gets put down on the paper, not by what stays in the writer’s head. Success should not be graded by how much paper one uses. As they say, it is not the quantity of paper but the quality of the writing for which it is used. For some stories, there seemingly is not enough paper. Most other stories might simply require a few sheets. Whatever your story, that story is meaningful to someone. As you write your story, consider the emotion it contains. Think about what it will sound like to the reader, whether it will resonate. In this piece, I guess that I am saying that my need to tell my story is proportionate to the emotion I put into it. I guess the value of my story is measured by the time I put into it and the time that is necessary for you (assuming your willingness) to read it.
Now, why did I write this? I guess I am throwing intention into the wind and inviting others to speak about their stories, because the roll of toilet paper is disappearing fast, and we all need to be heard.