Leaving the Overlook

I'm a writer.

At the core of my being, I'm a writer. Not an overnight admissions tech. Not a nursing student. Not an office manager to a dysfunctional private practice. None of the litany of qualifiers that I have used to describe myself over the past several years. And over the past several years, I've allowed my love for the written word to fall by the wayside.

I love to write. I feel better when I write. I feel more focused, more alert and oriented, more attuned to the ways of the world, and far more open to praying and believing in life in lieu of having contempt prior to investigation. When I'm writing regularly, I feel a constant draw, a sort of inner urge to write all the time. I find my mind wandering and dreaming throughout the daily routine towards whatever it is that I'm working on, the tons of stories that I have brewing in my head, and all the things that I want to write as soon as I can get away from the everyday to do it.

Although I love books and reading as much I like creating stories and putting all of my ideas on paper, there are many times -while reading even some of the best work there is- that I find my mind wandering away from the tale that I'm reading to whatever idea I have flowing through my head.

Such is not the case when reading anything that Stephen King has ever published, and The Shining is no exception. Tonight, as I read the final hundred pages, I found myself so engrossed in the end of the novel that I literally jumped when my text message alert binged to break the silence that permeated my room. After finishing the book and going outside to smoke in the last of what remained of dusk, I thought about what it is that makes King's work -all of it, not only this novel- so scary...

Well, I was going somewhere with this. Maybe I'll get back to it later.

Brodie is texting me back (I sent that message an awfully long time ago), so I'll take that as a sign that it's time to get ready for bed and send a few messages back his way.

A nice ending to a not-entirely-unpleasant Memorial Day weekend.