Okay, so here it is. Yet one more new blog out there in cyber world. Why should you spend your time reading mine? I’m hoping you might find what I have to say interesting. Perhaps entertaining. Maybe even useful.
I’m a writer. And my goal for this blog is to do just that. Write.
I have been writing creatively at least since high school—a long time ago. I tried stories, poems, plays, personal essays. But even before that I can remember vivid, imaginative play with my sisters, my toys. I would play out stories in my head before going to sleep at night.
I love stories. Reading them and writing them. It’s part of who I am at the deepest level. My mother has always been an avid reader. I have also always loved reading, though I’ve never been as fast a reader as my mother, or my sisters.
Through college, I didn’t find as much time to read for the simple pleasure of reading. And my creative endeavors focused mainly on short pieces such as really bad poetry and questionable short stories. I even wrote a short story for my final paper in my Russian history class. I scored an A for the course, so I must have done okay.
Sometime after college, when life became a mere existence from one paycheck to the next, I began to write my first novel. I bought a new computer and set up a writing space. I subscribed to magazines and bought books on writing. I had all these ideas in my head and I was going to be a writer!
I played around with words. I wrote my novel. Half of it at least. Then I started to rewrite it. The novel foundered, and I have yet to finish that first one.
I got married. Started a family. My writing took a back seat. A really back, back seat.
Then, about six years ago, I was holding a tiny human in my arms and thinking about what sort of legacy I might be leaving for my son. A box full of unfinished stories. An imagination left inactive. I feared that’s what it would be. And I wasn’t okay with that.
Why then has it taken me so long to really get started with my writing? A very good question. I suppose it was fear. Insecurity. Lack of faith in myself and what I have to offer.
The lack of faith and insecurities are still there. I still don’t know that I have anything of value to offer my readers, but I’m hopeful. More than anything else I intend to write for myself. I will share what little I know about writing, what I’ve learned from my own reading and my experiences. I will share some book reviews as I can, and I do hope at some point to share my fiction.
And the fear? I’ve decided to banish the fear. It’s useless, and a waste of time. No one likes what I have to say? I’m okay with that. I will tell my truth. I will share my view of the world. I will give it my best. I won’t hold back.