I am

I am a writer.

No, I have not published a book. No, I don’t have a column in the local paper. No, I don’t write articles for a magazine. However, I do write. Granted, not as often as I would like, but still, I write. I miss it when I am away too long. The words and thoughts can well up in me until I feel I will burst and can’t get them out fast enough on the page.

I am an artist.

I paint with the vernacular. I am enthralled and delighted by the challenge of taking a thought or idea and expressing it with the brush strokes of the pen (or in my case, the keyboard). My “art” can be simple or complex. It can be realism or impressionism. It can be whimsical, it can be serious. But above all it is my canvas to create as I see fit. There is always something intimidating about staring at a blank page. And then one word after another appears until I am amazed by what’s been brought to life.

I am a reader.

I read for pleasure. I read to learn. I read to think and ponder. Reading is my mental trip to the art museum. There are so many different galleries and types of artwork and they each have their own style and genre. Some works I can pass right by without a second glance and others make me take notice. As I gain inspiration from others “art” it makes me want to continue creating my own.