It is one thing to blog, to journal the events of your life and occassionally craft the writing for your family and a few loyal friends (all five of you!) to read. It is quite another thing entirely to write for the purpose of general consumption. You cannot begin to write a book (you know, the one you always meant to start) or a short story, a poem or a song without knowing in the back of your mind that the purpose is to have it read by others. That purpose alone is what has stopped me time again from putting pen to paper. Because at that point I have to ask myself, "is what I write actually going to be any good?" Writing is something I always thought I could do. My claim to faim is getting 100% correct on my grammar tests in school, and I must admit, I know when to use an apostrophe. But it's safe to say I could do that, rather than actually try to do it and face the possibility of failing.
However, I have come to a crossroads in my life (I am 40 now you see) and I can ignore the signs no longer. I thought I knew what I wanted to do when the twins started school. I dreamed about it and made plans; I was certain. But it just didn't pan out. Paul, who knows me better than I know myself supported me in my plans but he knew better. He's always wanted me to take the time to write. My parents, the same. Some of my friends, ditto. On Saturday someone whom I consider to be intuitive and who doesn't know me particularly well but has been reading my blog, encouraged me to give it a go. She didn't know it had always been back there.
So I shall start with something already written in my next entry. It's the putting it out there you see, that's the challenge. I wrote a little story for a North and South competition a few years ago, called "Places in the Heart." I quite liked my little story but it didn't win, didn't get published and has never seen the light of day for public consumption. Until now.