Often enough it is, that I wish I'd been able to finish out my schooling--especially where my writing is concerned. I read the works of other writers--whether that be a play by Ibsen, a mystery by Steven Saylor or a television script from Dr Who that someone gave me a link to, I cringe when I realize just how plain and shallow my writing truly is.

I feel like, well, as much as I know by learning or instinct, there's twice as much I am missing. I feel that much of the time my writing is just straight-forward and simple (which is sort of the way I am, I suppose, much of the time), and lacks the intricate layers and the inimate knowledge of everyday life, that fleshes out the work of so many writers, and really makes a solid impact on readers and/or viewers.

I either don't have that within me at all, or, I haven't the foggiest idea how to get it out of me. And, it makes me sad, a little. It's why--and I'm fairly certain of this--I will never be published. I don't have that subtlety, that little something extra, that marks a truly wonderful writer.

My writer's voice is something that I carefully cultivated and nurtured, over the years...not on purpose, but it just came out of me, gradually, inspired by the works of Emerson, Thoreau, Balzac, Cowper, Goldsmith, Shakespeare and, believe it or not, Louis L'Amour. And, my "voice," I'm finding, is continually evolving. I'm adding new words, new expressions, all the time, because..well, you do, don't you? I look at things I wrote 15 or ever 20 years ago, and think--"wow, was my grammar awful or what?" :)) Seriously though, I do take a lot more time to think about my writing, than back then, when I just sat down and did it, heedless of errors or linking paragraphs in a logical order.

Still, no complaints, really...just being a wee bit wistful, tonight. I think--I suppose I am, an average writer, as Americans go. And, that's okay...after all, I could be >:XX