It came to me at about 2 am today, that writing is like flowers. There are obviously different kinds, as there are different writers, but what struck me is that writing doesn’t have to be perfect, just like a flower doesn’t have to be perfect, but still adds to the beauty of the whole. I’m reminded of the annual Tulip Festival in Mt. Vernon, WA. Some tulips, among closer examination, differ from others and some have imperfections- a leaf that is too open or withered, a stem that droops, etc. But taken as a whole, the tulips are beautiful. The imperfections aren’t seen. Maybe that is how it is with writing, or a body of work. Sure, there may be some imperfections, but what is the general meaning? Does it come across? That, it seems to me, is the main question and challenge. So I will write and post, scatter my “seed” if you will, and see if anything comes to fruition.
