Correction, I DO NOT only write.
I brainstorm, I draft, I edit.
I doodle and create.
I play tag with my words, chasing them around.
I curse, I yell, I kick, I scream.
I edit, I edit, I edit.
I twist sentences. I add wit.
I pull my hair out and slam my fists.
I wave my arms about, digging them into my writing.
I struggle to throw my readers in.
I stick their faces into my work.
I proofread, I rewrite, I trash.
I draw in little notebooks and take them EVERYWHERE.
I write ideas, inspirations, and silly lines.
I try my ideas, inspirations and silly lines on others.
I flop down in bed after a horrible day.
I get up three hours later.
I sit at my computer and type, type, type.
I sit atop my bed and write, write, write.
I help others in hope that they’ll owe me help.
I send my work off to be read.
I yell, I argue, I fix.
I listen to what people say sucks.
I insist what I wrote is grammatically correct - until I look it up.
I sigh, swallow my pride and continue.
I write, I write, I write.
And that’s just the beginning.