I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of hunger for life that gnaws in us all. ~Richard Wright, American Hunger, 1977
There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein. ~Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith
As writers, we have all hurled those words, we have all opened that vein...it is part of living, breathing, swimming in, our art. We are compelled to put our words to paper, in the hope of sharing it with the world; in the hope of feeding that frenzy; in the hope of reaching out to even one other soul who might take comfort, find solace or recognition in those words.
We bleed onto the page, slice open our souls, pin emotion to the walls and wait...wait for an agent, an editor, a publisher, a friend, a stranger, anyone...to tell us we've done it. it's good. it's wonderful. it's ready. it's perfect.
and then...then, we do it all again. because we are never done writing; creating.
It takes bravery, persistence, a ridiculously thick skin, and a hell of a lot of gumption...but do it! Because you'll not regret trying, but you will mourn giving up.
Prompt #72: Are you holding back or are you going for it?