I started writing when I was 13. I used to be the kid in the back who used to always scribble away in my notebooks. They didn't have notes. Maybe if they had, my grades would have been better. Instead they collected ideas, unfinished stories, character sketches. Then I guess I grew up. Although, looking back, I'm more inclined to admit that perhaps I just stopped writing.
Funny how when my mother was dying two years ago I turned to writing for solace. In the strings of words that seem to flow effortlessly from the tips of my finger tips, I found myself. I needed to write about her, about my loss and hope that somehow I could make some sense of my life. You can check out the link if you're curious.
Sooner or later it was bound to happen. I was tired of my mother's death. I didn't want to constantly talk about it. I stopped writing the blog. I tried other things but I never quite found my voice. It was here that I picked up my pen resumed writing. So that's what I have been doing, working on my manuscript. It seems appropriate to do this now as I'm getting ready to finally take that step.
I'm excited and terrified. So guess this is it, published or bust.
Funny how when my mother was dying two years ago I turned to writing for solace. In the strings of words that seem to flow effortlessly from the tips of my finger tips, I found myself. I needed to write about her, about my loss and hope that somehow I could make some sense of my life. You can check out the link if you're curious.
Sooner or later it was bound to happen. I was tired of my mother's death. I didn't want to constantly talk about it. I stopped writing the blog. I tried other things but I never quite found my voice. It was here that I picked up my pen resumed writing. So that's what I have been doing, working on my manuscript. It seems appropriate to do this now as I'm getting ready to finally take that step.
I'm excited and terrified. So guess this is it, published or bust.
