Writing is all about creating magic!
On Words:
"One of the bad things you can do to your writing is to dress up the vocabulary, looking for long words because you're ... ashamed of your short ones" -Stephen King
Why the Wind?
If I could stand again upon that grassy crest, or out in a field, bare of winter wheat, I'd summon up the wind and ask it to sing ancient melodies to me.
The windsong through a hog-wire fence, strung in an open, empty field, from weathered post to weathered post, haunts me with its eerie whistle.
The bluebird and red winged blackbird pause to lend a bit of harmony, sweetening the melody. And I smile.
Throughout ancient, crumbling canyons, the wind howls round corners and up through a secret crevasse, swishes past dried grass humming its thoughts.
If I could stand there once again, next to that giant cedar, the one barely clinging to life at the edge of a steep precipise, overlooking the ocean, the sea breeze gracing its feathery neeldes with a fine film of briny moisture . . . below the ocean, whipped into a frothy dither by far away winds, I would cheer.
If I could stand once more under great whispering pines while a gentle breeze sings softly to the shimmering lake it shelters . . . I'd listen, take note, join in harmony with the song until the sun went down.
--DBB
