The unvoiced thoughts and ideas of a septegenarian.


on April 3, 2012





I cannot tell you why I write. There is nothing to be gained by doing so. I’m not gong to win a Nobel Prize or retire on the royalties from my novels. So why do I do it? Why am I compelled to write almost to the exclusion of doing anything else?


Perhaps the answer is that writing like talking without being interrupted. And why is it that you an search for an idea until your brain bleeds, then suddenly one comes rushing in unbidden and you dash to your desk, all else forgotten? The writer can no more stop the words from flowing than he can stop the snow from falling. The difference between writers and others is that writers have a lot on the inside they need to get on the outside and it’s the same with dancers and artists.


When I decided to try my hand at some poetry I discovered I had a head full of ideas and thought I’d never given voice to .  You don’t normally say to someone “Do you think imagination is the highest kite you can fly,” do you?  Or “Do you know what I mean when I ask you if you can squint?”  Ideas like that came pouring out in the form of rather pediatric poetry.


I don’t expect that anything I write will win a blue ribbon but it seems to me that I have succeeded if my words are found to be interesting, challenging or inspiring. If they raise a question in the mind of the reader that’s a plus.  If they send the reader in search of more information or inspire his curiosity that’s better than a gold medal as far as I’m concerned.


Isaac Asimov summed up his passion for writing, saying, “If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster.”

Julie Rose




  1. janet says:

    This is a nice, personal revelation about the reason for writing, Julie, and I think it applies to all the arts; that inborn desire to create, which is satisfying to the artist even when no one else shares our creation. Maybe it also applies to others as well….scientists, athletes, etc. They must feel the same satisfaction when doing what they love, and the same frustration whey they’re denied.

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