I do schmaltz too often on this blog. Too often I’m inclined to warm, giddy feelings and like a child at a fair for the very first time I jump up and down excitedly screaming, ‘Look, look!’. I want to share. I think it explains too, why I enjoy entertaining, it’s heartwarming to have people share in what’s mine, albeit for a short while . I’m not altogether a people’s person, I’m clumsy in most social settings. I’d dearly like to be quiet and unobtrusive and smile at the world in passing but nothing makes my heart flutter like opening my palm for others to also revel in the butterfly within. I’m a sharing sort of person. I write because I want to share my thoughts, my ideas and often, the only way for me to make sense of my feelings is by sharing them. I’m wondering if this predisposition to share is in fact a display of selfishness, of a constant need to keep myself bolted to the focus of the moment.
Writers are like trees, they grow together but each to their own potential. Like trees, writers help each other grow to their own strength by competing to be their best.