I have written things for as long as I could remember. When I was younger it started with song lyrics, poetry and fan fiction. As I progressed in high school I was writing creative writing pieces and there my imagination flew. I was asked not too long ago why did I write? Of all the things that I wanted to do in the world, why did I choose to write?
The answer is quite simple while complicated at the same time. Personally I enjoy writing. There is nothing more liberating than the imagination. Your imagination can take you places beyond your wildest dreams and who wouldn’t want to go someplace different. That’s what it’s like when you pick up a pen or pound away at the keys.
For other reasons, the last few years have been extremely blessing but bittersweet. A few years ago I lost my first husband to cancer fifteen days after our son was born. We were only seven months into our marriage. I admit I was in a downward spiral of depression. If it wasn’t for my two older children, I don’t know how long that depression would last and then I picked up my journal. I haven’t kept a journal in so long, probably not since 2008. I wrote some of the thing that I have felt. Some days it was no more than a few words and other days I wrote pages. It gave me an outlet. It gave me an escape. It became my escape from then until now.
By the middle of last year, I told my fiancé that I wanted to write a book. He gave me all the right words of encouragement and got me a tablet so I could start writing. I self published two short stories after that. So when I get asked why do I write, it’s no more or no less than simply who wouldn’t want to go someplace else without leaving the comfort of your home. Or better yet why not write and give that gift to someone else?
Until Next Time,