by Gabriela López de DennisGuest Author
Words… oh, words. I love you so. You are what keeps me up at night, you are what wakes me up at dawn, when it's still dark. Bare feet hit cold, hard wood floor. Duty calls. As a writer, I believe I have to fight for my words. I have to put on my armor and battle for my writing time. Camouflage myself into the pages of life so that you miss me. You do not see me therefore do not distract me. Guess I’m not home. Success. Back to writing. Grabbing it by the horns and never letting go. Do not disturb. Closed for the night. Out of service, not in service, do not bother me… I am writing. If it means crawling out of bed at 5:00 a.m., sometimes 4:30 a.m., pouring the hot water in my French press and letting that first gulp of coffee, 2% milk and turbinado sugar give me that “wake up and write!” slap in the face… then so such things must be done. Because… I have to fight for my words… for my lifeline. I dream of words in my sleep, after letting them lure me to rest, sometimes till the wee hours. I am not a night owl, but if the words call, I report to the page. Don’t complain. And then, I wake up to words. Do it all over. Reading, reciting scripts out loud, praying out loud, singing, writing lyrics, that never ending re-writing war… whatever it wants it to be, I let the words consume me, embrace me. I love each and every formation that comes through me. I love it when they entice me, visit me, romance me, beg of my attention, that, I may help them come to life. I serve words. I am a slave to words. I put on that bondage costume and I let them take me where they want to. Whip me into shape, correct my grammar, proofread my tenses, abuse my fingertips, as I wear all black type slamming against the stark white page. I am not afraid. I love every combination of such hard-bodied words. I live for every period, each and every comma, every paragraph, and all the spaces in between. I try to decipher the subtext. I allow them to confide in me. I promise not to tell, and yet, I promise to tell the whole world. A gossiper of words, a carrier of words. Safe haven, white paper, keyboard or pen. I surrender. Knees on ink smudging tired words on concrete. S.O.S. I simply can’t go on. And then… a lullaby about stars, a Dorothy Parker poem, a beautiful jazz, Billie Holiday song with lyrics that tear at my heart, seduce my body into rhythm, with longing words that caress the back of my neck… how dare you words? How dare you! I love you words, I shout it to the mountains and the oceans and the territories not yet revealed. I am in love with you, words. Please kiss me on my blood red fingernails and let my hands do your dirty work. Give me criticism, correct my mistakes, make me start over, I can take the pain. Try again. I close my eyes for a second and let your essence come over me, all over me. On my hands, on my heart, on my head, in my mouth the words have conquered me and I scream stanzas to save my life. Euphoria. Yielding. I collapse in your literary arms. I cry out to you. Spell check. Thesaurus. Undo. Shift. Control. New document. Words. They whisper in my ear, all that I never realized I wanted to hear. Sleep. Live. Awake, to words. Words… oh words, I love you so. The end.
Gabriela López de Dennis is a Los Angeles based writer, artist, and producer. Check her out at http://gabrielalopezdedennis.com/