I am a writer. I have been a writer since I was eight years old, scribbling poems in a pink papered notebook. (I don’t know why the paper was pink; it was a gift. Anyway…)
I’ve always written stories, spun tales, though not always have I set them down on paper. There have been times in my life where I’ve stepped away from my writing, gone a month or two without the outlet.
I found ways to forget, ways to set aside the pressing need to put my voice to words and those words in some fashion out of my body and into the world. And yet, I’ve always found a way back to it, to sitting in a corner, tunnel visioned on my notebook, or in this case my netbook, and just letting the words spill out.
And so now, in my [gasp] adulthood, I am no longer allowing myself to just slip away. I am no longer allowing myself to just stop, forget, set aside this need that pulses in me every day.
This past weekend, I attended another event, for which I will give a few recaps quite soon. But I felt the need to talk on why I haven’t written lately, and why I must write now.
There are times in my life when things seem overwhelming. In college, it was the level of pressure I put on myself, especially my junior and senior years. I took up a difficult degree, no matter what impression others have when they hear “Bachelor of Arts, Theatre – Design and Production.”
I worked thirty hours a week for one job, five for another, attended classes full time, and worked on multiple shows a semester. Then, I faded away from writing because of lack of time and increase of stress, though if I had made the effort, I’m sure my writing would have been a great outlet for my emotions.
That was the last time my writing suffered so greatly. In between age eight and today, it’s often been for short stints of a month or two between writings. I’ve journaled since forever, and that was a good way to keep my mind working, though my stories lacked. I suppose that’s why I have this blog, my journal of my life as of now.
This weekend, though, I could have posted, but I pulled away from my writing. Each day there was plenty of time for me to stop, edit a rough draft I already had prepared, and post. However, I didn’t.
Emotions are funny things. You don’t always know you have them until they magically appear. And so, in the next blog, to be posted probably in about thirty minutes, I’ll tell you how I found my feelings, let them out, and am now riding the wave til it ends.
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