Am I Still A Writer?

Kimberly’s Word From A Jar

I don’t devote hours a day to writing, does that mean I am not a writer? I write when inspired, when something hits me so profoundly I stop whatever I am doing and begin to write. Once that torrent of words is out, I go right back to my normal daily life, as though there was no great wash of words suddenly cleansed from somewhere deep in my soul. Poured out to be pondered over, perhaps a few re-writes to fix the flow, and then shared only if I deem them worthy.

Recently a friend was posting photographs he had taken on social media. There were several that just leaped off the screen and poked and prodded and screamed out loud for me to put words down for them. Whether my words even came close to what my friend saw through his lens, I have no idea. But these words begged me to set them free, to share what I felt the pictures were saying. It had been about a week without writing anything profoundly new, or that I was ready to share, but these words soon found themselves in the thread of the picture posts.

I have found over the years, that this “inspired” writing seems to fit me best. There have been times I have gone to sleep, sometimes with something or someone on my mind, and in the darkness of sleep, these words will suddenly force my eyes and heart open. They MUST be written down, now! No waiting for morning, no rolling over and going back to sleep. They pound into my head, fill my dreams and wake me, relentless in their pursuit of being brought to life, either by pen and paper or a quick write on my phone or iPad. I have learned to keep all these items close at hand. Once these words have been given life, they are content to let me back into my cocoon of sleep.

Sometimes I realize right away where the words come from and who they are meant for. Other times, the meanings are elusive. These are usually the “Darkside” poems I write. The ones that send friends into a tailspin . “What’s wrong?” “Are you okay?”.

It’s so hard to explain, they are just words that tumble out. Not always for me or about me, but for someone out there, wherever ‘there’ may be. I call it my ‘spiritual’ writing.

I’ve always thought Words are a gift. Nothing makes me happier than to be able to wrap these lovely words up within a beautiful package and gift them to someone who needs them. To see them, to hear them, to find their own special meaning within them.

So does this make me less of a writer? This inspirational only writing, as opposed to ‘career’ writing of devoting hours a day? Does this make me less serious in my craft than those who churn out writing after writing, day after day, tied to pen and paper, laptop or tablet for hours on end?

I would hope not. I would hope that my words have been joined over the years to heartstrings, to friends and family, to strangers whom I’ve never met.