Girl Kissed by Goat


Barbara thinks loving to write is like kissing a goat.    It’s hard to explain what compels anyone to want to do it.

After all, as some cynics say, people today don’t have the patience for a good story to unfold.  If a sentence is longer than a Tweet, an editor raised on Twitter will be overwhelmed with the mad desire to butcher language with the sharp point of a pen, to slash out poetry, and leave once robust prose gurgling limp in red ink.

And that’s only if he gets around to reading it.

In this modern world of hapless texting, closing bookstores, and drastic changes in the publishing industry that have made it even harder to make any form of living with words, the list of reasons one shouldn’t bother writing seems longer than the Andes.

There are certainly easier paths to take when settling on a profession.

And yet… writers still write.

It’s like kissing a goat.

Sometimes, you just feel compelled to do it.

If you’re ever really smitten with the power and beauty of the written word, you won’t feel as if you have any choice in the matter either.

You’ll know writing is what you were meant to do, so you’ll write, write, read, and write some more.

It’s just that simple.

Photo Note: Barbara met the animal above on Carl Sandburg’s farm near Asheville, NC. Whilst Sandburg produced poetry and prose–and collected thousands of books throughout his home–his wife raised this handsome fellow’s award-winning forebears. It’s worth saying that all people have a calling, and Mrs. Sandburg’s seems to have been to raise goats. (It’s unclear if she ever kissed one of them.)