A writer opens his toolbox and places his tools on the table, to construct a work of art. Words take form and sentences become pages. The writer labors to find the perfect word in his arsenal of vocabulary.
His training, knowledge, study and reading come to bear as he struggles for perfection. His freedom of thought pours onto the page and something special takes life. Writing is a singular exercise built on the shoulders of the ages. The penman fills his toolbox with the best at his disposal. Words are his sword.
Will we allow the artist to perfect his art? Leonardo Da Vinci changed the world with the power of his abilities. We stand in awe at the complex majesty of his work. Millions pay homage to his legacy each year.
No one stands at the side of the masters of art, music and sport, to tell them to restrict their art. Instead, we laud their accomplishments and beg for more.
If we, as a culture, do not place a hobble on musicians, artists and athletes, then why do we do so for writers? The wordsmith pores over books, reading, consuming all that he can of the language. As an erudite person, he turns his extraordinary abilities to paint the story of his mind, so readers can be captivated and elevated.