I can write better than I can talk. And I talk a lot. In fact, way more than the ordinary person. I talk way too much. And most of the time when I’m talking, I just keep on going, because I’m trying to find the words to say what I want to say, or to express what I’m trying to say or feel. And I keep searching for the words, saying things different ways trying to get the point across. But the words just don’t come.

That’s why I write.

I don’t know where she comes from. But sometimes I have this inner voice that’s just coming out through me that I need to get it down on paper, or down on a note, and type it or post it, or speak it, or something. And those are the times when I feel it’s me getting something down that I really need to share because it’s insightful, witty or funny, stupid, or just downright ridiculous.

My husband. He thinks I talk way too much. He says I have a quota every day of 20,000 words and I need to get them all out. And if I don’t, I keep talking, until I have gotten all 20,000 words out for the day. That’s a lot of talking.

In the evening when he just wants to chill, and I am still getting my words out. Somehow with all those words, I never really get to say, what I need to say. There’s so many times when I wish I had said something different. Or nothing at all.

My husband though. He’s the total opposite. He can speak the right words, at the right time. All of the time. I mean he has a gift. For knowing what to say. In every situation. Not me. It’s the total opposite. I have to write it.

That’s why I’m a writer. I am just now coming to embrace that fact.

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