Tag Archives: Creative Writing

Logophile

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“Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind, is written large in his works.” — Virginia Woolf

The greatest romance you’ll ever know is that of a writer and her soul. Her love language is storytelling, a pen to paper, her true love’s kiss. In her grasp she glides it over delicate sheets of ivory and leads the sweetest slow dance. 

“You should write because you love the shape of stories and sentences and the creation of different words on a page.” — Annie Proulx

Enticed by the shape of words, her soul is awakened. Like blank pages of a story unwritten, the writer’s soul begs to speak. It’s a fatal affair, her pen bleeds to ease this consuming passion.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at the typewriter and bleed.” — Ernest Hemingway

To be stripped of her voice she wouldn’t mourn, but she vowed to never let a word be left unsaid. She’s devoted to the creation of poems and proses. When scintillating syntax seduces her there is no finer bliss.

“A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it.” — Roald Dahl 

The writer fears she may never meet her muse. For the moment she simply falls in love with every verse etched in black. So when my words are all that is left of me, I hope you understand I’m just a girl who loves writing. 

“A word after a word after a word is power.” — Margaret Atwood

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I believe even if we don’t understand it, there is meaning in everything. With this in mind, I was intrigued to learn more about the idea of synchronicity. This is the simultaneous occurrence of seemingly unrelated events with no feasible explanation. These “meaningful coincidences” are thought to be universal “signs”. If you often see repeating numbers or you think of something happening and it does, then you’ve experienced it. Such phenomenon happened to me recently. I was gifted a shirt with the saying “just a girl who loves writing” on it. Unbeknownst to my mother who gave me the shirt, over a year ago, I had randomly made up and typed out a very similar mantra. So, this Valentine’s Day I took this as a sign and got the inspiration to share my love for words, the art of written expression. I hope you love it!

I typed “just a girl who loves to write” under my Instagram bio over a year before receiving a shirt with the saying ”just a girl who loves writing”.

I can’t feel my legs

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‘I can’t feel my legs’: an exclamation often used in pivotal moments of a story to depict intense devastation and anguish for a sudden loss of a sensation. This is typically the point in the story in which the character can’t fathom how to carry on under such horrible circumstances. If such is the case, my story begins at the climax. Except it wasn’t something I had to get used to nor was it something taken from me, it was something I never had to begin with. I can’t feel my legs and I never will. 

I will never feel what it’s like to be in my shoes. I will never feel what lies beneath my feet. From warm and cozy fuzzy socks to the sizzling pavement on a summer’s afternoon, I only have my imagination to draw upon. Still, what I never had is not what I long for. 

I can feel the endorphins rushing through my veins when genuine laughter expels from my lips. I can feel the serotonin easing my mind when I place earbuds into my ears and drown out the world with contagious melodies. I feel familiarity in every surface my fingertips graze. I feel hypnotized by the beauty of all colors and shapes that mingle to create art.

With every inhale of fresh air, as I take in the glorious scents of the natural world, I feel serenity wash over my body. With every taste sweet or bitter, I feel my tastebuds dance. With every word my pen translates for my intricate mind, I feel passion grow within my soul like blossoming flowers in the springtime.  

I invite constellations of goosebumps to invade my skin. I crave the feeling of sunshine enveloping me in comforting warmth. I am exhilarated by the piercing pain in my heart left by the power of storytelling when fictional love falls apart. Through hills of joy and creative bliss as well as spirals of pain, anger, and sadness, I’m on a rollercoaster of emotions and I never want to get off. 

I was never stripped of any sensation. I am not incomplete nor is my story one of heroic overcoming. So if by the title you thought this was supposed to be a tragic anecdote, you’ve got it all wrong. I do not wish to change what cannot be changed. I only wish to fulfill my heart until it’s experienced every possible feeling it’s ever desired. I long to feel the fluttering of butterflies that awaken with love and the ache of heartbreak. I strive for the feeling of success and brace myself for failure.

I can’t feel my legs, but I am not numb. So no, I can’t run, jump, skip, or twirl, but I am feeling everything and living all at once and in that I am truly content.