“The words echoed around the cavern and broke through mere rock, so great was the force behind them, melted mere mountains, screamed across the miles.”
I’ve been watching the news, the weather, the pandemic reports from our nation and the world. However, the Writer Elkhound reminds me there is work to be done. A book to revise. Stories to write.
Antlers to chew.
As I wrap up a very long revision, I am once more struck by the power of words. They are potent in times of change. And often finding the right noun or verb is an arduous journey.
Climb Mount Fuji
But slowly, slowly!”
“Words: So innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.”
Every so often we end up in a particular moment, a collective AHA for the ages – that split second where thought, intent and action coincide. Words guide, shape, or rend. Condemn or heal.
“A writer lives in awe of words for they can be cruel or kind, and they can change their meanings right in front of you.”
The language we use requires reflection, carries intent and can even spark illumination.
“I have hated words and I have loved them, and I hope I have made them right.”
Imagination is the flint, words are the spark. The fire is a story.