Children of a Writer

(Written in Strathalbyn, 1988 whilst working on my first novel)

Dedicated to Adam, Debra, Scott and Samuel

Adam looks hurt and sulks and comes back to apologise
        but he understands
Scott gets cross, pulls a silly face and jumps around
        but he understands
Debra takes it in her stride, even though she looks left out
        but she understands
Samuel growls and whines and stomps out again
        but he understands

I'm writing, more in the world of my mind
        than the world I live in
I'm writing and cannot be interrupted
        by anyone
I'm writing for our future, for our livelihood
        for my children, for myself
I'm writing because the stories in my head give me no peace
        until I deposit them on paper

I yell, I growl, I ignore, I am deaf, dumb and blind to all
        but white letters on black keys
        black letters on white paper

I love you my darlings
        you are the reason I write
I'm sorry my loves, I'll be finished soon
        but to finish I must keep writing
They resent it, they want it, they love it, they hate it
        and I'm grateful they understand

12 November 1988
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