Writing from the inside out...

Some books are easy, some aren't.
The ones that flow often come out of a mind tuned to an information avalanche already downloading within... Others don't because the memories your mining, like rocks, may require a little smelting before they give up the gold. ... And sometimes, it's both.
And all the while, you imagine others will value the gems you uncover.
That's what I came away with from the book reading the other night: a little objectivity.
The lawyer that represents himself has a fool for a client; the actor who directs himself may be lost in the false glow of their own publicity, and the writer who produces voluminous pages but keeps them hidden from critical view may lose himself in the woods of his own ideas.
Watching eyebrows rise, eyes widen, mouths curl as I read - all these signs informed me about what it is I have.
To write is wonderful, but to be read, sublime.
I want what I write to be read... and so I may do another night like that soon; enabling me to dip my writing toe into the water once more. Lost in the frenzy of pounding the keys, I sometimes grow numb to what I'm doing and require a group of readers give a listen. Their sensitivities help to suss the temperature of my work... L.