I love to write. I always have. There’s something about hearing words in your head and moving them out that is therapeutic and empowering.
I find I don’t write enough. I recently finished school and have found joy in reading the books I want to read, learning the things I’ve been too busy to learn, and writing the things I want to write. I’ve been writing more recently, and have rekindled my love for writing – just writing. I’m hoping something comes of it, but I’ve accepted the fact that most of it will be garbage. Not throw away or burn garbage, but hoarder, wonder why I didn’t get rid of that garbage.
And I’m totally ok with that.
Who knows what this will turn into, but I’m excited.
I’ve got a few things to direct my writing energy towards: this blog, two other websites I’m working on (links coming soon) and a children’s book. The book is especially exciting because it’s all in rhyme. I love poetry. Here’s how it starts:
Nora was quiet, bored out of her mind.(It’s hard to sit still when you’re three and outside…)
I’m a work in progress, and I love that. I’m learning to embrace it.
Life is wonderful, isn’t it?
What are you doing to make yourself who you want to be?