Other Communites and Journals I manage: auralis akashatears ecclecticpagans Hunched over a candle, fingers itching, thoughts buzzing in a perpetual drone. Ink and quill grasping to keep up with the hurried and sloppy legibility of the writers thoughts. Muse grinning in satisfaction over the creation, the myriad dance of images in text upon the parchment. Writers block wisked away like some faded distant memory.
"Tis beauty in those words. Words which can topple kingdoms. Words which could make grown men cry and gentle ladies take up sword. Tis those words that linger like whisps in our delirious dreamings. Our refuge lies soley in ink and paper. That is how we create. Muse ever poised, ever ready."
You can always pick out the writers amongst the crowd. They are the ones with ink stained flesh and itching fingers naked without their pen.