Empty Spaces

I’ve kind of mentioned this previously. The “why I write” of that post is now included in the “when I write” of this post. Let’s see…

I used to write regularly. I was always inspired, either by a song on the radio, a bird in the sky, something my friends said, or whatever. Now, it just seems like so much effort. I think I really slowed down once I became enamored with the speed and ease of word processors. Also, as time went by and I got more busy and had more stuff to remember, the definition and rules of words and grammar kind of became less important for me to retain.

I think this is normal. I try to combat it with making myself read something every now and then. Reading in itself has become a task. But, I can go from reading 5 books or more at a time, to struggling through one book. If I don’t read a whole book or skim to the end, I get half way through and become distracted by something else. A problem, I realize. I had to figure out why so much and how to control things, if I could.

My desire to write comes and goes now. I am always responding to various goings on of the world around me that I find either funny or important enough to share. I have to fight this need for it to be done the easy way. I admit, now, my handwriting is not always the best, well, even worse at times. I tend to write in code,  half thoughts, metaphors and analogies.  I figure it comes from always wearing my metaphorical masks. Detaching myself from the reality I am trying to share. Or, just that fact the crazy thoughts they just read came from little ol’ innocent me.

I went from needing an empty space on something and a pen to what am I going to do with this? How can I organize my thoughts, when I can’t even think.  Like now. A big blank. But, I write. I write, because I feel and that’s where my writing comes from. Sci-fi, romance, horror, life experiences. It’s all the same to me, so I write. I know I started this blog for a specific focus, hence the Storyline section. Then there’s this the learning and inspirational side of getting my writing back in order. I do appreciate the help and insight. My other blog, is a hodgepodge of things in my life related to dealing with and helping others dealing with the results of abuse and assault, etc and just living. Easier to prevent and stop the stuff if we get it out and talk.

It appears I work better under pressure maybe, but this isn’t stress. As much as I’ve wanted to stop, especially, because things aren’t growing as fast as I’d like, I keep going. It’s like I’m trying to fill a void a lot of times. I don’t think it’s God that’s missing like I have created in the past, but it’s a since of importance, necessity, I guess. Or the growing anxiety.

Writing gets my voice out. I remember writing poems for a valentines gift for certain people in high school and some family members. I like being able to encourage and give to others. I didn’t expect anything in return, I just wanted to be sure they knew someone was thinking about them and cared about their lives. I’ve had one person write something other than a letter for me, but that’s for later.

Even in the roughest parts of my life, I could write and it was easier and more fun. I like writing poems and stories, not necessarily assignments. If I had a paper due, I sure spent a lot more time designing the cover page and title than the assignment itself. I’m terrible at essays, yuck. Funny, huh? I thought I could do it for a living, but I had so many other goals for myself. I also realized, if I was forced to write or the subject didn’t interest me, it was going to take a lot more effort on my part to write inspired and motivated and relatively acceptable.

So, you want to know what I would write about. Well, I would write about anything I wanted to and then watch peoples faces as they read it to themselves. That’s the fun, sharing. Good or bad, I want to see if anybody “gets” me.




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