The Spear

In a warm night’s sky when but a child / When thoughts and hours away I whiled / I saw a thing hung there on high / That flashed within my widened eye / Four stars against the sky arrayed / My mind transfixed by what they made
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About Sean Sullivan

My writing is so much like the things I craft from reclaimed wood - begun with passion and purpose, sorely short on planning.

The three legs of wordcraft being preparation, inspiration and perspiration, I never fail to make do balancing and wobbling on just the latter two.

I just can't resist the urge to plunge my hands right into things, start shaping parts of the whole and fitting them together.

I grant mine are stories made from old wood - scraps and bits that have seen the world, overused and weathered, salvaged and repurposed.

Yet somehow in spite of all that, I find my mode of word and woodcraft work well. For when I’ve hidden all the mistakes I can find, sanded out the rough parts and those apt to leave splinters, I hold something that has character, feels comfortable and fits in.

"Is it an antique? Authentic?” some might ask."Or a reproduction perhaps?” A bit of both, I'd have to say. I hope you enjoy reading!

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