by E.h. Bennett

I love words. I love reading words. Especially when they are able to capture a philosophy beyond pure emotion. I love to hear the pin drop.

But you wouldn’t think so by the number of words I write. My characters speak volumes, just not in quantity.

I’ve been so busy at work it’s been difficult to find to the time to write this post. It’s only 9 PM, and I should be sleeping. But here I am attempting to find the words to illustrate what my subconscious has been stewing over for the last couple of days.

Why don’t my characters speak more words?

Is it something I read from Beckett and/or Edward Albee. Could be. Dunno.

Or it it something personally damaging?

Does speaking aloud = ridicule?
Does daydreaming = a backhand?
Does having an opinion = punishment?
Does editorializing = retaliation?

Forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting. Events shape us. Or maybe it was simply the influence of Beckett and Albee. Could be. Dunno.

And ultimately, does it really matter?

Just keep on writing.