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Why I write

by Lynn Wyvill, about 3 years ago

My country is a veritable stew of possibilities. Everywhere I turn there is a story. A bee nuzzling the bleeding heart, causing the blossom to vibrate with the invasion. An angry woman sitting in the driver's seat waiting passively for her arrogant partner to return for a ride home. A toddler tugging on the tails of a very weary mother, her face frozen in weary loving. Even the faceless man in the restaurant declaring his arrogance to the world over a cup of Tim's double-double. How can I not write these stories? They beg to be told. And I must record them before they are gone.

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