The Write Thing

I always wanted to be writer. I can remember making up stories and making little "booklets" using bond paper and staples. I tried to illustrate these creations but unfortunately I am a better writer than I am an artist. When I got older, I used to write about how I wanted my life to go. I'd use my friends as inspiration or movies and other books. I used to write poems - about love, heartbreak, beauty, sadness, anger. I would feel a sense of satisfaction if I got to write what I felt down on a piece of paper and have these words express what I really and truly feel.

What happened?

When did I get so lazy? Was it complacency? Did I think I was good enough already? Or was it fear? Fear of being criticized? Or insecurity? Am I just not good enough? I guess a bit of all those things. I don't really know.

Do I want to write more? Yes.
Do I want to write for a living? I don't know.

My boss told me that I would never make a lot of money if I did. And okay, yes to some extent, she's right. What I need right now is financial stability. But oh... to be able to do something that I love. To be my own boss. To have people read what you have to say and think "she makes sense." That would just be the awesome-est.

When I started this blog, I promised myself I'd write more and I don't think I've been able to do that. Is this for 2010 instead? Will I have to make a twenty-ten blog? For now, I guess I'm glad I got this out and its been good to be able to type it, though I'd much prefer pen and paper.