Writing The Truth

The power of the pen.

Writers want to compose in words. They like to exercise their writing muscles, and they create insights, adventures and excursions into other worlds. Astounding works are created out of a writer’s mind every day.

I don’t think of myself as a writer, and I don’t care whether others think so or not.

It’s not important to me to “be a writer.” The reason I write is because I have things I want to say. I’m trying to learn how to say them so they can be understood. I have noticed since I started writing here on Medium that I have certain quirks that might interfere with being understood. Vocabulary and syntax, punctuation and a tendency to construct run-on sentences are caught by my wife who edits every piece.

I’m getting better. English is my first language, after all, although my vocabulary is heavily influenced by French, I try to stay with simple Anglo Saxon English as much as I can.

Medium is a kind of school of writing for me. Just before coming onto the platform, I wrote a book. It’s a book that I had to write because it filled my mind and insisted upon being written. I don’t care if it ever gets published. It just had to be written in order to tell some truths about my life that would die with me unless they were clarified in words.