Unlike most writers who have a plan for production and write out of their intelligence, I write only when the three parts work together. Unfortunately, that is a rarity as the mind can always thing of something more productive than spilling the heart's contents on a piece of paper, and the body, being spontaneous, would much rather be a socialite than sit alone and perform the tedious task of writing the exact words that the mind fusses obnoxiously about. Then there's that mysterious shadow that speaks only in whispers. If the soul does not speak, then no hint of creativity can come from me. No, it is only when all are willing that I can do an activity I once hoped to be my career, it is only then that I can tell you a story that has been wondering about, lost within me, and set it free into the world for others to wonder within it. Writing is the only craft that gives me a sense of pride and even, a sense of purpose. There are stories that must be told. There are corners of the mind which must someday have a light shone on them and for man kind to discover himself.

I know that Independence day is a strange time for such a statement, but perhaps it's time for us to declare independence from what we think we must do, and simply do what we are meant to do.

And so the page is turned, and a new chapter follows.



Danie