I’m an inadvertent slave of William Shakespeare – with whom I have much in common, some people say. Apparently, he re-invented the English Language, invigorating it with words he invented… And, my favorite editor/shred-it-or describes my style as brisk word blending (I think she made that term up)  😆

It’s no matter, I like the term. I’ve often been told that my writing is spunky – a bit like me in person. My husband describes me as a walking exclamation point. And, he loves me, so how can that be bad?  😎 I bend to the beat like a post I wrote awhile ago – did you read it and re-shape your behavior?

Truths, which I reframe as gifts: my heritage is highly literate parents who cherished reading as much as they did me – and that’s not a bad thing, either.  Both nature and nurture.

A positive result: I have an extraordinarily diverse vocabulary. I am also obedient to iambic pentameter, the verse of the Shakespeare that I ignored in high school. Boys were more important than Shakespeare then. They were cute and alive and he was dead!

Yes, I am obedient to iambic pentameter and possess a tendency to complete sentences with a clipped single power word. Not because I am clever or seek to write like a male, but because I am obedient to the beats.

I couldn’t erase those imperious beats if I tried.

The source? My inherent musicality (a gift from my dad) and reader/writer soul (a gift from my mom). It’s genetic and my writerly style is homage to my folks.

I was trained, also, to be Midwest humble.

Truly, lovingly, sincerely, I’ve never had time to feel insecure – muse flowed words to my fingers, whether keyboard or script by ink pen or pencil. I feel comfy in my writerly seat, not insecure.

I have heart, not ego or skin in the game. I loved my parents and wish that they were here.

I must honor my parents’ gifts to me, to keep them alive in my head and my heart.

So, to the theme of The Insecure Writer’s Support Group, the five things I cherish in my writing space: inheritance of wit, wisdom, musicality, and vocabulary from my parents, which all flow through my fingers to the keyboard.