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“The difference between the right word and almost the right word is the difference between lightening and the lightening bug.” – Mark Twain

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Writing is a joy when it works but it is a maddening process to find the right flow of words and the right rhythm of thought.

Writing is a hunger for the correct use of language, requiring exacting care to find a proper voice, as nebulous thoughts struggle to discover a worthwhile order on a blank page.

Writing aches for accurate clarity of purpose, desperate to realize meaning.

Writing offers no reward for a completed work as no work is ever truly finished.

Writing knows no failure other than a misspelled word, a misplaced comma or a plagiarized idea.

Writing is a burden of love fueled by an active and curious mind, often attempting to escape a mundane reality.

Writing yearns for precision but rarely finds it, settling instead for mediocrity and ordinary conveyance.

Writing occasionally promises brief moments of serenity as complex ideas meld into eloquent cohesion.

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