So I have started writing. It rather odd to me, putting the thoughts and feelings that normally writhe about in my brain down in a literary form. Out there for others to see, as with this blog, or down into manuscript form, wondering, praying that some day they may be cohesive enough to find their way into a published work.
Why then you ask? Why do this, if it seems so odd, so alien? Well I'll tell you. My friend Jen, a published author, and all around awesome person. She told me, yes it's true it was months ago, but she told me, well if you have these ideas just write them down. Well I guess I could. No one would ever want to read them though, I was pretty sure of that. After all the last time I took a writing course I was in high school. I was hardly of any sort of professional caliber.
Yet maybe I am wrong, I was hesitant, but I gave a small sample to a few people, too get feedback, and they liked them. Or they said they did. Maybe they were just sparing my feelings, hoping I would get bored and give up after a few weeks. Then again they know me, I'm all sorts of stubborn, so that's unlikely. Maybe they really did like the writing. Who knows, only them I suppose.
So I did start writing, and now oddly enough I can't stop. It's what I think of when I get up in the morning, fairly early in the morning. It's what I think of before I go to sleep at night, fairly late at night. All day it's what I want to do, it's a bit maddening for my poor husband. I think he's beginning to feel like a widower.
Is this what it supposed to be like? Does it get better with time? Am I just completely insane? (Anyone who knows me is not allowed to answer that last question.)
Who knows if this insane experiment will have lasting repercussions. I guess if you ever see my name in a bookstore we'll know for sure. Until then I guess it's time to just write and hope.