The Something that Defines the Someone

It’s the person with magic at their fingertips. The one that weaves the average into the enchanting, rendering the everyday unrecognizable. They are the ones who set a whole new world spinning into orbit with just the pitter patter* of computer keys or the scratch of a pencil against paper. It is the people who create things not for obligation, not for want of money but for pure passion and joy. It is the person who is just as lost in their own universe as the reader, constantly making their own tiny discoveries. The person who finds  a treasure and covets it until it is more than a single gold coin but rather something so big it cannot help but be shared. Writers, they are the people who create something out of nothing and everything out of something.

They’re the other side. The other half. They’re the soft pages and familiar creases. The late nights spent before big events. These are the analysts the critics, but also the lovers and loyalists. In their mind is where the magic happened. Where one left off they begin. Weaving their own tales alongside another’s. They are the lied to, but they don’t mind because sometimes fiction is so much better than what reality has to offer. These people are the ones that teach the bird how to fly, teach the cheetah to run. Without them there is nothing. They carve a nook for themselves within the universe of words and quietly stay until life comes calling. Readers, the people who give and sustain life far beyond that of the writer.

*I was trying to imitate the whole “wolf! Wolf!” thing but I’m not entirely sure how successful it was.