Indulgent

How indulgent reading is. The reader can open a book, an electronic book or magazine, a news report or blog, anywhere they want: in their living room, traveling by bus, relaxing on a mountaintop, in the bathtub. We the reader can read the encapsulated words at our leisure, any time, day or night.  We can escape from our worlds and realities, lives and responsibilities, in the covers of a book.

The art of writing is also indulgent. Unlike other artists, the writer does not have to get an agent, get an audience, fill a theater, balance the sound and acoustics, perfect the lighting, have a photo shoot.

All a writer needs to create their art in the moment of creation is a visit from the muse known as inspiration, time alone with a pen and paper, or a computer and keyboard, a quiet place to think, or a room filled with music, the thoughts in their head and the courage to write.

Writing can also be self-indulgent; after a piece is written, the writer can then read the art they have just created. The writer becomes the reader, their own audience.  Whether it is shared with the world or not, the art must be pleasing to only their eye.

I love sitting at a computer, alone with my thoughts, tapping into the creative force that runs through me. I can only create art at its highest level through my writing. I am grateful for the gift I have been given. It is my greatest indulgence.