We search through the creative chaos of our minds.

Bifurcating gray matter with our thoughts, searching for the right word, the right depiction.
Excavating, mining, grasping, wondering if it matters.

Is it of benefit? we ask.

Tasting, savoring words and phrases, complete sentences rolling around our tongue. Is it sweet? Too sweet? Is it sour or bitter? Perhaps judgmental?

Do we digest the message with a warm glow to our cheeks as the words travel to our gut? Or, do we pucker up with disgust and vomit the trash into the nearest can?

We are writers.

Sharpened pencils, ink-filled pens, green spiral notebooks, laptops, tablets, phones, and napkins are tools of our trade. (No, not napkins—environmentally unfriendly. There’s a topic to write about, soon. Add it to the growing pile of thoughts to share.)

We are writers.

Coffee mugs filled, or perhaps tea.

Some may wait until the late evening hours to spill their creative chaos into a neat and tidy pile. Others write in the early morning, before or during sunrise, taking advantage of the quiet time between the moon setting and the sun rising.

Some write to share a passion, some to share a cathartic experience, some to apologize as if sending one enormous amend out to the world. Some write to create a story, some to educate.

We are writers.

Sharing what we filtered from within our mind, our heart, our gut.

May we be of benefit. May it make you laugh, ecstatic, cry, anger, upset, blue, broken-hearted, aroused, incited, accepted, acknowledged, or, let with lingering questions.

We are writers.