Tuesday, April 26, 2005

Why do I write?

Why do I write? Why do I want to write? I’m reading a book for ideas on creative writing, and it tells readers not to procrastinate writing even when they don’t feel very creative. To get creative juices flowing, the author suggests writing down “why we write.” This is proving to be a tough question to answer.

I'm trying to figure out what made me decide to take my writing to the next level-putting it out there for others to see. I am very emotional about my writing, and I don’t know why. I’ve thought about writing a novel and articles for a while. But, mainly I've wanted to write about health and the environment–that task is very daunting indeed. What does that even mean, decide to write? I’ve always liked to journal my thoughts, and I can remember writing short stories as a child, but I never thought about it. Now it’s all I think about. It’s hard work and most times I feel so inadequate that I have to wonder why I’m even contemplating such a task. I just know that I’m supposed to write.

Like skydiving, I feel the rush of the words that at times come in faster than a nosedive or one falling out of a plane, but at other times I feel as stale as a loaf of bread left unattended on the counter. There are so many things I could be doing, so why am I choosing to do this? Writing to me is like being on the beach on a warm, sunny day in the summer when the laziness of the day takes over my mind, and for just awhile, I’m able to escape from my worries.

Share with me. Why do you choose to write your thoughts and dreams, articles, essays and novels?

Don't we all have days like this?

Steering her car around the corner, tires screeching just missing a curb, she pulled into a parking spot with an abrupt stop. Getting out, shielding her head from the pouring rain with an old newspaper, she heard a crying sound. Lifting her eyes, she spotted a large, beady-eyed crow staring at her from a tree above. Suddenly, the ominous black bird dived straight for her- trying to run away from it, she tumbled to the ground. Getting up quickly while brushing leaves off, she picked up her pace toward the door.

This is the first part of my short story entitled, The Stranger. What does the crow represent in your life?

Will post more of the story later...Stay tuned.