When I was fifteen, I read ‘Julie’ by Catherine Marshall. I distinctly remember closing the book and purposefully saying to myself “I will be a writer someday!”
Then life got crowded – marriage, three boys, business owner, traveling, caregiver, etc. – writing only happened in my journal.
Then an accident that will forever change my life happened and it seemed like the right time for writing. Physical pain and limitations force me to sit and rest my legs – so a comfortable recliner, a lapdesk and a laptop gave me all I need to write.
Well, that gives me all the ‘stuff’ needed to write, but I’m finding it doesn’t just happen on it’s own. I need to discipline myself to make it happen – and right now I’m not doing a good job of that.
So, I’m asking myself – to write or not to write?
Am I a writer? Do I really want to write? Was my comment at 15 just motivated by the good story and the emotions that it produced? Or was that comment a ‘purpose’ I should make happen? When I am 95, will I wish I had put some muscle behind the idea I was so certain would happen when I was 15?
I think part of pondering this question requires me to put serious energy into writing to help me determine the answer. So, I’m planning new postings for every other day – well, every few days, or maybe once a week – geez, I don’t know if and when any new postings will be here.