Thursday, October 26, 2006


I have been writing for twelve years now. Twelve years of half ass attempts at creating something magical, something memorable. Twelve years of amazing beginnings with no endings. I have this horrible talent of creating an idea, a great idea of only a beginning and end. The middle I’m stumped on. I don’t know why. I know what the first chapter is, I have an idea of what I want to tell, and I know where it’s going to end. But getting there I just can’t do. Its not lack of trying, I have over 10 stories as of this moment I have been working on. They are all calling my name furiously for attention. I write a sentence, maybe a paragraph and that’s all I have. My muse is gone, or whatever you want to call it has disappeared as fast as it came. So I move on to something new and it happens again. And again, and again. I have a notebook, three subjects I think, filled with ideas. These aren’t a paragraph per idea, these are pages per idea. I have stories in me that need to be told but I just can’t do it.

I have wanted to be an author for so long, it’s who I am. I may not be published, I may not even have anything finished, but damnit I am a writer. I write as often as I can and I have work to show for it. It may be short but its there. So why don’t I write short stories? Because I can’t. Its funny isn’t it? I laugh at myself on that one too. I mean seriously I can’t write a novel because a few pages in I am spent, but I cannot fit my story into a handful of pages. My longest story at the moment is 150 pages. My shortest is 20; I just started this one two days ago. So see I do work, I do create; I just can’t keep the momentum. How do you keep it going, I truly need to know.

Life is inspiring. I know it is because the second my son was placed onto my chest I wanted to make him proud of me. Growing up I didn’t understand all the hard work my parents had done to get to where they were. I saw them as two beings who worked ordinary jobs living in a decent home. I didn’t know my mother had quit school at age 16, never got her GED and was stuck working in a factory. That’s all she can do without an education. She didn’t know that then, but she sure as hell regrets it now. She wanted to be a nurse, but gave that up to be a wife and mother. My father is self employed, and yet has no one under him. Years and years ago he could have started a business, had employees, grew, earned lots of money. But instead, he chose family members or close friends to work on his crew, never more than three of them at one time. He is well known in my area for amazing work, but he could have been more. He chose not to, because he saw it as more work. Now they have little to live on when they retire. I am thankful for everything they did to provide for me and my siblings. I am proud of all their hard work, but sad that they never truly got what they wanted. I want better than average for me and my family. I want to be proud of what I have accomplished, not wonder what might have been. My son has shown me that I can’t just dream about what I want to be, I have to do it. I have to grow some balls and take that leap.

Love is inspiring. When I was little I dreamed of my knight in shinning armor. And that dream isn’t even close to the man I married. He is far better than I dreamed of so long ago. He isn’t perfect, no one is, but he puts up with my shit and keeps on smiling. We have known each for almost 20 years. We weren’t true friends until high school, and then became inseparable. When we started dating, it was just natural. We were already as close as you could get, minus sex. When we kiss, it is magic. True magic. The magic that makes your heart skip a beat, magic that turns your body into weightless mush. We have withstood hard times, and came out better people and partners. Its true love, true magic, true passion, and its beautiful. I want everyone to have someone to love. I want everyone to have this feeling of happiness when they think of their spouse. Too many of my friends and family can’t look or think upon their spouse with pure happiness. You should, because if you can’t its not true magic.

I am inspiring. Inside us is a person of unknown ability. Anyone you want to be. But you have to choose, you alone choose who you are and who you become. When that little voice inside us whispers advice, we need to listen. Most of us run through life not giving a damn about tomorrow. But tomorrow is a gift, and we should treasure it. We should make it the best we can. I know of the things I am capable of. I know my stories can captivate people because I have seen it. I know I have some talent, but how much I’m not sure. The only way to find out is to listen to that voice and write. Finish something, publish it and hope others love it as much as I do. I gave birth to my son inside my own home, on my terms. I know I am capable of so much, yet I hold myself back from who I want to be.

Inspiration, what is it? It’s everywhere, in everything, and everyone. I may have ideas aplenty; I may have a small talent in telling them, but it’s a waste of time unless I do something about it. For a while now all I can think about is writing, I even started taking creative writing classes again. But something in me just says 'No, sorry you can't write today'. This morning I created this blog, and I haven't stopped writing. I can't stop the ideas flowing. I still haven't gotten very far in my stories, but I've gotten far enough to wonder if I’m finding my way. I don’t know why creating this has opened my mind, but it has. Its scary, it’s exhilarating. I want more. I want to finish something. And I hope that this blog is what I needed to finish what I started all those years ago.

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