The Ramblings of a Conceited Man: A Guest Post by John M Tabor
I’m on maternity leave! During this time, a few of my favorite authors offered to step up and write guest posts so that this blog would remain active while I adjust to my new role as a mother. I may also be a bit slower to respond. Thanks for understanding and for being so supportive of me, my family, and my blog. Want to donate a few dollars to keep this blog running or perhaps contribute to my diaper fund? You can do so on Venmo or Paypal.
The Ramblings of a Conceited Man: A Guest Post by John M Tabor
As I recline in my summer’s repose I have allowed my mind to wander, not an altogether safe pursuit. On more than one occasion thinking has put me in the thick of things. Nevertheless, as my summer’s effort to complete one book and initiate another has ripened I have found myself considering the distraction of writers…and my writing in particular.
Writing as a creative endeavor is an admirable pursuit, no less than the inventions of artists and sculptors. Mustering the innovative juices necessary to bring to life that which before was relegated to the musings of the imaginative mind certainly is a laudable pursuit for the cultured and intelligent. To describe in elegant poetic prose the characters, major and minor, whimsical backdrops, and the very thoughts, passions, and motives in such imagery that the reader is transported to another place and time is true talent, relegated to a few with gifted facilities. The result…the reader is entertained. The writer is rewarded.
Authors of fiction and nonfiction strive for perfection in their craft. Many hours are spent toiling over the keyboard of typewriters, now laptops and notebooks, exercising and straining gray matter to achieve a distinction of excellence. Hours traveled down blind alleys, some journeys found, some rewritten, some discarded. But eventually a compromise is reached between effort, time, and achievement. Not all passages will be as pleasing in the mind’s eye of the author. A particular few will be adequate and, by the very nature of the story, have to suffice, yet others are pure genius; at least according to the wisdom of the writer. Having birthed something beautiful they reflect upon its charms, imbibing in its creativity, and their attending skill at the blessed event.
Many times they will return to their favorite passages to reread for the umpteenth time those phrases that tickle their fancy inciting a plethora of emotions…a physiological avalanche as it were. The heart beats faster, eyes dilated, and uncontained excitement flows through their veins. Silently to themselves, and timidly for fear of conceit revealed, they claim those words, sentences, and paragraphs which on paper, for which they are printed, remain flat; but, by the contrivance of the reader expand in multifaceted dimensions, revealing a world as real as the one you and I reside in.
Writing can be a vain glorious diversion pursued by those who thrive on recognition. And, although it is immensely gratifying to see books published, on book shelves, and enjoyed by fans, many writers do so for the pure pleasure of the creative moment. Knowing they might be the only audience to their inventions is not a deterrent for those who love to write. And yes, I would write if I was the only one to enjoy my books. However, if you are so inclined you can find “In My Father’s Shadow”, “My First Five Years at Sea”, and “Letters to Bizzy” on Amazon. Thanks and keep reading!
The Ramblings of a Conceited Man: A Guest Post by John M Tabor
