The Moment

There's this moment. The moment when you know, you just know, that you've written something spectacular. And you just step back, and reread everything surrounding that piece of art. You just drink in the words you just wove together.
That moment, is the reason why I write. I write for hours a day, I piece together sentences in the shower, I get ideas and experiences in my own life, I do this all for a reason.
To know I've written something to be proud of.
It doesn't come often, which is frustrating. But when it does happen, it makes me realize why I write. Why I love to write with all my heart.
Would you like some examples?


"As I’m running, I reach up and yank off the band that keeps my hair together. It flies out behind me, the red streaking the sky like fire. It flickers like flames behind me, never getting quite close enough to burn me. I grin. This, this feels like freedom."-Marigolds

"The eyes are what strikes me. Takes my breath away. Both his eyes, and his sister’s. It’s like looking straight into a forest, the way the colors blend and mix.

He looks at me staring at him. He cocks his head, studying me. I look away from his gaze.

“I’m not going soft. But I’m not a cruel animal, either.” He says quietly."- Found

"My eyes just clear the window, so I can see. I see concrete. And guard’s boots. And guns. Nothing pleasant. Nothing to take my mind off this place. I’m about to go back to my cot when I notice one little thing. There’s a bird. It’s not big, and it’s not particularly pretty, but to me it’s a breath of fresh air. And for a minute I’m back at the creek, hauling up buckets of water, and humming my song. She’s a homely little thing, brown and white, with a blue beak. She takes off flying, and I gasp as she soars above the trees until she becomes simply a dot. I smile in spite of my leg, my head, or Tess, Todd, or Grant. I smile because that bird is free. She will never have to worry about her children being taken away, or getting a bad job. She will never have to marry someone she doesn’t love. She can do what she wants. She can be who she is. And no one will care. I want that freedom so bad it hurts down deep in my gut. I want to be that bird.

And I make a promise to myself, to Todd, to Tess, to Grant, and all these people in these cells right then and there.

I don’t know how, or when. But I swear, I will get us out of here. We will all be free like that bird. I bet my life on that."- Marigolds

This is why I write. These examples, all proved to me why I do what I do. They were confirmation that I can do what I love.