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  • although the author escapes me, i will always remember the concept of "writing down the bones."

    i bought an old-school ink fountain pen, some nice textured paper and sought the 'feel' of my words on the page to allow me deeper access, closer to truth, to my story, to what robertson davies might say is 'bred in bone'.

    it worked-ish. i enjoyed a regular 15 minute practice of writing the bones, filling notebooks and scrap papers, even random and obscurely titled blogs.

    work, however, kept and keeps calling, trying to take my creative energy for its own purposes.

    i want cowbird to be the place that replaces the feel of ink on paper, that gives me a different sensation when i write, connects me with more than the page and the 'idea' of sharing experience, but actually connects me with people that can let me know if im on the right track. can you feel the passion and enthusiasm i felt when the nib digs in hard and the legibility of my words decreases? can you sense the hesitation i saw in the larger spaces between words as i quested for vocabulary to shed light on the contents of the basement of me, the bones? will you? will i get better at painting pictures with my words?
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