My Need to Write

As it sometimes happens, spoken words can not convey the thoughts or feeling felt behind them. I suppose in a sense that is why I write. 

Then again, I am generally a quiet person. I like to sit back and take in the conversation at hand only interjecting from time to time if confirmation is needed. This allows me to think of a response that is worthy and perhaps thought provoking. Also, staying quiet and actively listening allows room for the other person to express themselves fully. If I wait for the pause or invitation for an exchange, I can form a better reply. In the case of writing, many of the things I have pondered over, ruminating over a particular idea, writing it out is actually creation that is tangible and outside of my head. This is actually pretty cleansing; it gives an inner peace of sorts that thinking and verbalizing sometimes cannot. 

I started writing in middle school. I enjoyed the literature classes immensely in high school. As an adult, I didn’t write for pleasure or otherwise, instead I was caught up in the wave of exploration and later into relationships and marriage. It wasn’t until I found out that I was pregnant with my daughter (unknown at the time she was female) that I took up writing in a journal, pouring out my expectations, my fears and my dreams of her future. Recently, I passed along those journals to her for her to look through and reflect on as she enters the realms of adulthood. At almost twenty years old, she is ready to know more about the experiences that I have had. 

Blogging wasn’t something I considered until I first found myself separated from my husband. That first blog, which I started nearly four years ago is still private and in time will be forgotten as I become increasingly active writing on this blog. This blog, like the previous one, was started out of a need to communicate to someone or thing outside of my head. Writing for me is not only knowledge, it is a way to release those thoughts running with scissors in my head. I tend to write more about those inner demons than anything else. 

The next step is to ‘graduate’ once again and try my hand at making money as a freelance writer. This desire is only being sought after with one teeny tiny baby step at a time. Last week I received business cards that I simply titled, “She Writes”. Beyond that I have yet to network or act on making a move to acting on that yearning. I honestly do not feel capable, all the sudden. As if I am not quite ready to ‘put myself out there.’ I have cold feet at the precipice before making that jump. 

My final goal in this journey of sorts is to obtain a Master’s degree in Non Profit Administration with an emphasis in Grant Writing. My writing will have completed a metaphorical loop. I aspire to arrive at this destination before I am 50 years old. That gives me about 4.5 years to complete my bachelor’s degree and reach graduation of my master’s degree. Not impossibly however equally daunting. 

I vow to write daily. Even if it means I write about the box beetles that torment my cat. There is so much to write about and it’s time I start in earnest in becoming the writer I say I am.