My good sister friends know this (and you know who you are) as does my husband.
But in the effort to be open and real, I am going to confess it to the other 4 people who read my blog.
And each one of you four are special to me; Jeanette, Crystal, Joy, and the UnNamed Reader–it’s like the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. The UnKnown Reader could represent one or thousands.
I’m thinking that it’s not thousands.
But if you do stop by, can you tell me? In person–thanks, Colleen–or on my blog.
So here is my confession
I want to be a writer.
I have wanted to be a writer since I was in — ohhhhhhhh, let’s see — 4th grade.
From age 10 to age 15, my stories were all about a horse riding club (much like; okay, no. Let me rephrase. EXACTLY like the Babysitter’s Club only instead of babysitting, they all owned horses. And one of the character’s names was Autumn Ann Anderson. I thought I was so clever! Oh, gag me!)
Then, I went to college and writing was to an activity to participate in to pass a class.
Then, I worked for 9 years of my life, had babies, and realized that I missed it.
So I have decided that I want to write. Really write. Like a book. A book book: A book that has pages you can dog ear. I have a writing mentor who is partnering with me monthly to sit and talk about what I have written.
Herein lies the problem.
I don’t know what to write. I have a GAGILLION stories about being a mom. I have surfacey thoughts about what I am studying in the Bible. I have opinions about everything, and if I don’t have an opinion about it, then I have an opinion about not having an opinion. Seriously.
Did you follow that? But nothing flows together.
Two months ago, I came up with this awesome writing schedule. And it looked like it was going to work, and then we had major birthdays, company, and the plague hit our house. Currently, we are in survival mode until we get to the summer.
How do I get back on track? What do I write about?