Suppose someone gave you a pen — a sealed, solid-colored pen.You couldn’t seehow much ink it had.
Would you plan and plan before you ever wrote a word?
Would your plans be so extensive that you never even got to the writing?
Or would you take the pen in hand, plunge right in and just do it, struggling to keep up with the twists and turns of the torrents of words that take you where they take you?
And of what would you write: Of love? Hate? Fun? Misery? Life? Death?Nothing Everything?
Would you write to please just yourself? Or others?
Would you stay in or on the lines, or see no lines at all, even if they were there? Or are they? There’s a lot to think about here, isn’t there?
Now, suppose someone gave you a life...
