I look forward to a day when I will not be trying to write a new entry for my blog every night and actually achieving my goal every two weeks or so. I have so much I want to write, remember, share... And I have really begun to crave my time at the keyboard. I am always happy when I am creating. I am a knitter, a seamstress, an artist... I love to give handmade gifts. This Christmas it was fairy wings, felted crowns, a knights tunic and scabbard and of course pints and pints of lovely red jam. But I have now discovered that writing falls into this category too. I love to weave a tapestry with words. It fills me up in ways I had no idea it would. For about 10 months I have been writing when I can and wondering if my musings make sense to anyone but me. I have been doubtful that my grammar would pass muster in an English class and am pretty sure that my misuse of vocabulary would make the average linguist cringe. Not to mention my liberal use of non traditional punctuation... and sentence fragments? I decided right from the start that I would write how I am thinking or at least how I would speak so I have stuck to it and it fits.
I struggle with the legitimacy of all of this. I am not a writer. I am just a soulful thinker trying to put my thoughts into words. And when I can steal the chance I tap them out on this keyboard. Almost always it is at or near the witching hour because that is when my house is sleeping, my work is as done as it's going to be for the night and I can briefly turn my attention inward to see what is bubbling up and trying to get out. Often the tap, tap, tapping at my keyboard wakes the babe sleeping next to me and I stop for a nurse. Sometimes the break gives me a chance to let my mind shuffle the chaos into something readable. It isn't glamorous, my nightshirt often wet with breast milk and my snack of chocolate buttons and a glass of water is hardly romantic. Maybe that is what keeps it real.
And although I crave to write more and more often I am pretty happy with my midnight blogging. The things keeping me from being here more often are precious to me too.
And I have decided to let myself be a writer. I'm tired of feeling like a fake so I've decided that I'm not.