Writing Is....

(A quick poem by Lydia)

You see, writing is a haven of sorts

A shelter of frequent resort

And when I visit this secret place

I find it filled with some new Face

From this Face, character comes next

Built from lines of descriptive text

And soon this Face learns a fact:

That I decide how he should act

My keyboard chooses a path

Filled with sorrowful aftermath

Since it may win some reader's tear

On this path he is forced to appear

In the whirlwind of my mind

This character forcibly must reside

Until the story comes to an end

I dare not release my new-found friend

And then in a some twist of fate

(Which I discover much too late)

This Face I found begins to insist

That I change the plot fit his wish

I'm sure any writer you may know

Has had trouble, grief, and woe

With managing this Face they found

Who once was just a shapeless mound

Yet from this endless tug of war I find

A book that truly captures the mind

Because if your writing is alive to you

Then, your readers will believe it too...