I love pencils. Brand new #2 pencils. Ticonderoga are my brand of choice.
I love fine tip pens. I have a hard time with ballpoint. Pilot G-2 07s are my staple.
I love books. Stacks of books. Stacks and stacks. They follow me everywhere.
I love new notebooks. Spiral bound are comfortable, old friends but legal pads and stenos have quickly found there place in my writer’s heart.
I love autumn. It’s my favorite season and one of the biggest things I miss about my Chicago childhood. Texas season just aren’t the same.
I love peppermint tea. And ginger tea. Oh yeah, ginger tea!! And I love hot cocoa. With sweet cream.
I love the way handwriting looks on paper. There’s something about long hand writing that has such beauty. Perfect type on a screen doesn’t convey the same unspoken feeling as an individual’s personal handwriting. Emails and texting have earned their place but I wish letter writing was still a thing.
Did I mention I love books? I love how they look lined up on my shelves.
I love libraries, and office supply stores. I love quiet coffee shops and bookstores humming with people perusing shelves and flipping through periodicals.
I love words. Written and spoken. The way a painter must paint and a scientist must experiment, I must write. It’s an interesting pull. It’s insatiable. It’s natural. It’s lovely.
I think anticipating NaNoWriMo is making me extra reflective and introspective and a bit nostalgic for years gone by. But I dug this old piece out 3 years ago. It’s not very good but it’s still true.
I Write In the Morning
I write in the morning when the sun peeks through the trees.
When the air is brand new and the world revived.
When my words are fresh, when my slate it clean.
I write in the morning.
I write when there’s a song in my heart.
When His Word is foremost in my thoughts.
When birds sing.
When wind blows.
When all is peaceful.
When all is well.