If not writing then what?

There always comes the time, when question is asked; what would you be doing if not writing?

You pose for a moment to think about it.

And you realize; you have never thought about it before.

So you try hard to imagine all those things you could be doing;

dancing till dawn in sultry bars wearing nothing but feathered boa, hue of the deepest midnight blue, and purple sued shoes with a ribbon of black taffeta tied in a bow that make your calves look long and slim,bar

drinking red and amber cocktails from exquisitely crafted glasses, so delicate that the tiniest sounds escape from them every time the waiter, rather aloof and sporting long side-burns, passed them to you,

making love to men whose names you cannot recall but know them only by the smell of their cologne and the way they try to pronounce your name, or the name of the place you told them you are from, which changes as mood takes you,

gambling large sums of foreign currency in the company of some aging gentlemen who pass themselves off as members of once distinguished, but now almost impoverished aristocratic family,

reading poetry on the street corners to passers-by and downtrodden members of working-class, who are staging protests against capitalism yet again,

travelling on barges across the old continent searching for the last remaining palaces with princesses still living in them, translucent with innocence,

running across summer fields full of sun-flowers and small insects in a yellow muslin dress with small forget-me-nots dotted over it, gliding inside the folds of fabric, delirious with joy.

Oh all the things you could have been doing!

Then you look around and you see the same old room, somewhat shabby and lonesome and silence falling over with dusk, only rain knocking on window panes.

And you know for certain those are the things you must write down and quickly while they are still safely inside you.

Because those are not the things you would be doing if not writing, those are the things you are writing.



Author: Daniela

Reader, Writer, Mother, Freethinker, Habitual Day Dreamer, Blogger - Sharing Ideas, Poetry, Prose, and Conversations on the Lantern Post!

45 thoughts on “If not writing then what?”

  1. I do know this is true.

    “And you know for certain those are the things you must write down and quickly while they are still safely inside you.”

    My ideas never come when I am sitting at the computer with hands posed over keyboard. I always seem to be somewhere with no pad or pen … on a daily walk, visiting with a neighbor, grocery shopping, walking the dog (oh I don’t have a dog) or getting a hair cut.

    My ideas may not be the greatest, but I feel the need to rush home and set them down while they are still safely inside me. 🙂

    Oh! The wonderful ones that got away. 😦


    1. It is indeed always the case … the wonderful ones that escape while our ‘hunt’ for them never ceases -:)!

      Many thanks for reading and commenting -:)!

      All the Best,


  2. This is really one of your best posts my friend. My heart is saddened by the way you show us your reality, yet your imagination conjures up such wonderful images of debauchery and passions of a different kind. It’s never too late to do all those things !! You’ve got me going now !! 😀 Have a lovely week Daniela. Ralph xox 😀


    1. My dear Ralph,

      I am moved by your comment … thank you. There are times when lines between so called real life and the life created by writing become blurry … a bit fluid, and one becomes less certain where does one really lives or has lived.

      Many thanks for reading and commenting.
      You have a great week too -:)!
      P.S. I ‘secretly’ always knew that life of debauchery would suit you just fine -:)!


      1. Then we must bauch our de together. Uh oh. One teeny weeny problem. We live thousands of miles away from each other !! Well it’s the thought that counts 😉 xox


  3. I dream of being in the loneliness of an Adirondack Mountain cabin;

    wondering why and how I wanted to be there,

    and when the ‘why’ and ‘how’ appear,

    I stab them into a notebook,

    that is proudly wearing.

    whiskey glass stains,

    on each page.


      1. Thank you for reading and commenting, and above all for witnessing my journey across the fluid lines of living and writing.

        Many thanks Waldo,


    1. Waldo,

      I am truly touched by your gesture; leaving your writing for me to find it under the Lantern … I think you know I would recognize both; the loneliness of a mountain cabin and the whiskey glass stains on each page.

      Thank you,


    1. Thank you very much -:)!

      Sometimes what’s real spills into what’s imagined, what’s written … and vice versa. Lending life to each other.

      Many thanks,


  4. It is always amazing that for me writing is so compelling. I make so many errors. I search for words that never come, yet I have written my thoughts, paltry and trite, hurt and angry, lustful and lonely all of them written down at some point, mostly to be thrown away lest someone discover and uncover the real and fluid me. How perfectly you have described what I do and am. 🙂


    1. I am very glad to hear you could relate to this little story … I am ever in search for words, and the one one needs most are the ones most difficult to find!

      Many thanks for reading and commenting,


  5. I could around yours after a long time but its always worth. If not writing, then I am sure I’d spend most of my time looking for something to write, in a way.
    How’ve you been, Daniela and your daughter?


    1. Dear Asha,

      So nice to hear from you -:)! Thank you so much for visiting!

      All is fine over here with us both; except of course there is winter in NZ, and I am not too found of cold weather -:)!

      Take Care and Be Well!


  6. I love it. ❤

    These are the lives we live vicariously. The personas we embrace, the secrets we keep, the fantasies we keep locked in the closets of our minds. ❤

    Again, I say, I love it. ❤


  7. You are a wonderful writer Daniela! I love the notion of the fluid line between writing and living…I guess when we write we live it right there, just on a bit different plane. But it really doesn’t matter…it’s experienced.


    1. You said it so well and so true; ‘when we write we live it right there, just on a bit a different plane.’

      Many thanks for reading and commenting,



  8. [ Smiles ] Oh, this is an easy one to answer. When I am not writing, I am either heavily engrossed in reading, or listening to music, or viewing a documentary, or photographing something, or enjoying the sights and the sounds of Nature.

    For the record, there are other things that I do when I am not reading, but they are too numerous to mention.


  9. An Excellent topic.What ever is hidden will be exposed.Thank you for liking my post (Dr.Taha Hussein.) have a blessed day.jalal


  10. Oh my dearest Daniela! Your words and ideas never fail to take me to faraway places. Writing is you. Never, ever change. Love, F xxx


Has it sparked something in you?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s