All I want to do is write.
I have been good at one thing my entire life (since I learned how to properly hold a pencil, of course) and that’s writing.
While some may disagree when I claim to be a good writer (keep it to yourself), I happen to think that I have some sort of skill and/or talent. Not only that, but I HAVE to write. It pains me to stay quiet. When I get my thoughts out on paper or onto the computer I feel better. I can remove pounds and pounds of baggage just by letting my fingers hammer away for twenty minutes onto my worn-down laptop keyboard. I recently posted on a popular blog where anyone can sign up and spill out the contents of their heads and hearts and do so anonymously while a large audience reads, commiserates, and comments. Once the post was live I showed it to my husband who then asked (even though he already knew the answer), “Why did you share that”? It was about the drama that my family has been drowning in since last November. I knew that I couldn’t write about it on my own blog (certain people read my blog hoping to find something but I’m mostly just surprised that either of them even know how to read) but I had to put it out there somewhere. Thank deity for anonymous blog posts. I will no doubt submit content again for it really was a lightening experience.
And that’s what writing is for me. I can’t not write. And if no one reads it except for my dad that’s okay because at least it’s out of my head. Besides, he’s my biggest fan (hi, daddy!).
The other day I was taking a shower and I had an idea for a book that I’d like to write. I’ve never really thought about writing an entire book before because the idea of it sounds overwhelming – I can write blog posts, articles, whatever, but an entire book? Shit, that’s a lot of words all strung together. In the past I decided that a book wasn’t going to happen because fiction isn’t my thing. I am creative but I just never saw myself as a fiction writer. I always thought it would be fun to write a series of chick-lit novels for ladies to pack into their gym bags or share over coffee with friends. Cheeky little novels about a modern-day heroine in some big city who has man problems, job problems, a shoe addiction, etc., and she’d somehow turn it all around and end up living happily ever after. There are millions of books like this out there and some of them are hilarious, well-written, and moving. Clearly, I have talked myself out of this novel-writing before I’ve even begun.
Back to the shower. I had an idea for a book and while I’m not going to share it because I’m a jerk I will say that I’m so excited about it. The writing hasn’t begun because I’m trying to figure out how to even go about getting a book deal or if self-publishing is the way to go. I have begun doing research and will hopefully get some tangible thoughts down soon.
So yeah. SQUEE!!