You may wonder about that possibly misspelt word “therefor” and I’m here to tell you that it worked! I caught your attention.
Therefor is a real word, with its own definition and a rare, but useful, application. Therefore means for that reason.
The attacker was at the door, for that reason we locked the door and called the police. The attacker was at the door, therefore we locked the door and called the police.
Therefor, on the other hand, means for that. Not for that reason. Simply for that. I am here to write.
More than one of you know I’m using it incorrectly.
Complete the application and include the paperwork required for the application. Complete the application and include the paperwork therefor.
This leads into today’s post. It’s about writing, a commitment to writing, and a habit of writing looking for a way to survive. Although I’ve written for as long as I can remember, I’ve only once used to as a source of income; I did quite well. Change, I am reminded, is a constant in my life.
I’ve had many opportunities in my life to start anew. Almost anything can be taken as a reason to shake things up and look for rot.
My definition of success comes with an ethical rider attached. If this rider is breached, the results are not a success. Motivation is less a factor than action. I’m confused when I act appropriately and don’t succeed, but I’m not demoralized by it. I’ve succeeded and failed in about equal quantities; though I cannot measure the quality of each success and failure, I can say that I’ve come out ahead on the success side.
Failure is as much a state of mind as anything. There are real consequences to failure. Every setback presents a new direction. Failure is a corrective action. Hopefully, it’s less serious than a heart attack.
Success, too, is a mental and projected state. The consequences of success are not always evident. Yes, you may have reached the acme of action and yet, have you acted with care for anyone, anything other than your self. The rotted fruit can taste so sweet.
You can make some mean drink with rotted fruit, take the top of your head right off, reveal the universe, but it doesn’t make you coherent.
Today I am starting, again, just as I do most any day because the racket of the day before has driven my plans into disarray. What was the racket?
I write. That’s what I do. I do other, day-to-day things, like bathing, dressing, eating, chatting, and so on. But, while most of you are settling in for an evening of television, company, or a night out, I’m curled up in a chair imagining new worlds, new answers, new solutions. That chair is usually positioned in front of my laptop or a notebook. I’m writing.
I wake up in the morning and sort through my projects. If nothing is time sensitive, good luck with that, then I pick the project that needs the most teeth. I choose the project that is either underdone or overdone and I chew it into something more palatable. Then I write the layers on top of that carcass and voila, a story arises.
I write for myself. I write for a potential audience. But, mostly I just trust that if I write what I feel then the audience will come. I know that reality is somewhere in between those two extremes (me only – everyone else).
I do write non-fiction, technical, and other straight-faced types of writing. Fiction and poetry fill my wee heart with delight because, unlike reality, I can fix things in fiction and, even more importantly, I can leave them broken.
I write for other people. With an idea, an outline, or a more detailed structure, I can write what another cannot. With a few short interviews, I collect what information I need and then I sit down and do for them what they haven’t been able to do for themselves, I write their story down. They can show me a picture and tell me five things about a person, then I write it down for them.
Creativity may seem like an odd bedfellow for someone writing other people’s ideas down, but it feels creative. As an empath, I drink in the essence of the story and
I write. It’s how I live.