everyone's a writer

so this has been a very quiet place lately! the short story is this: life got in the way of my writing. I haven't had time to do any writing because I've been busy doing living. I have had thoughts about writing short stories, interviews and random pieces for various publications/publishers, about a whole host of topics. but nothing has held me down long enough to write about it. at the same time, everyone I speak to is writing something! one of my sisters is writing a parent bible to rival the sales from all previous best-seller parent bibles and my other sister has been a lyricist/beat poet/writer/editor/publisher in melbourne, new york... and a friend had an idea at 3 o'clock in the morning the other week for her novel! her novel! and another dear friend writes novels for a living. one day I'll sit down and write my novel. as long as I'm not busy living the story. writing takes just as much energy as living because you live the story- the thoughts, feelings, ups and downs, physical exertion, etc etc- all over again as you write about it. or you imagine something to be so and that's an exhausting act in itself. perhaps it's the conjuring rather than the writing that exhausts me! and the fear stops me cold. I have a Hotel Sorrento induced phobia. Hannie Rayson has already told a large part of my own story. damn! as others read your story, they read their own story, from their own perspective, applying their own interpretation and deduction. they think they know what's between the lines. and that's when they throw a hardcover first release into a fire or lob it into the sea, to be banished forever from their thoughts and hearts! but never, really. because they have read it. so it's there. the story is indellibly there, there's no denying, no escaping that something happened, was said, done, someone was disappointed or betrayed or envious beyond belief, moving them to do or say something, which you interpret, from your writer's perspective and publish...for good or for evil? or just for you, perhaps selfishly, because you- as a writer- have this means of expression at your fingertips. literally. this gift. and readers (strangers, fans, family, friends) may take whatever it is they need from your writing at that particular time in their lives and do with it what they will. they can't blame you for your take on things. but they do. and they will. and that's perhaps the underlying thing, fear, which must be faced and overcome! or nothing changes. and what a sad, slow, mundane, uninspired, unlived life that is!