It is the chance to really hear my own voice. Not that racket rumbling around between my ears, but the constant dialogue of thought and ideas that runs through my conscoiousness like a fragrant river.
I can play with my fantasies, invent characters and interractions. I can win all arguments–always get the last word. I can play God.
I can play with the sound of words, rubbing against one another in my own senses–the internal music of color, sound, touch and meaning.
Writing is like stopping to take a photograph: a capture of the moment. An instant of thought or feeling. Concretizing the elusiveness of experience, thought, or idea. It is like capturing a butterfly in order to really study the thing, get a real good look.
It is a way of leaving my footprints on the Universe. To say “I was here”. To share with others the basic experience of living–what it is to be alive. To let them into my experience, and perhaps find something of their own.
It is the consummate luxury, to be alone with my own ideas, the indulgence of complete narcisism. To take the time to really think, feel, laugh or cry at my own and the human condition.
I write, often, from the unconscious–which makes it an adventure of learning about myself. I write to figure out what I think, and who I am, for better or worse.
It is a chance to play “What If…”. To literally rewrite all the rules. To play with infinite possibility. Because, when I write, I’m Queen of the Universe, Boss of the World!
I can say anything.
BIO: Georgia Santa Maria, MA, has been an artist and writer most of her life, and has been published in many anthologies. Most recently, her work may be found in Adobe Walls, Malpais Review, Mas Tequila Review, Bleed Me A River: A Domestic Violence Anthology, and on the web at Duke City Fix, Sunday Poem, and Duke City DimeStories, archive of favorites. Work includes 2 self-published books, “Lichen Kisses” and “Miami Hippy Mommy Cookbook”. She lives in Anton Chico, NM, in her Great-Grandmother’s antique adobe home, where her family have lived since the 1870’s.