There are just certain days the words won’t come. I try to put my thoughts into phrases, my dreams into words, my feelings into paragraphs, and my views into written images. I toss around ideas, I try to map out a plan, I brainstorm topics, and I research different subjects, texts, and themes. However, if my mood isn’t in the right frame of mind, writing is like trying to get blood from a turnip. It just ain’t gonna happen.
When you stop to think about how many things we witness each day, how many conversations we have, and how many stories we read, it’s hard to comprehend how one cannot find a topic to write, ramble, and discuss for at least 300 words.
I have concluded that it’s all about the mood, the stage, and in a sense, a mind set. I don’t write because I have been assigned a topic. I write for pleasure. I write for expression. I write for me. Although I set a personal goal to write five times per week, there is no law that says I have to. I won’t be penalized, I won’t be graded harshly, and I can drop the project at any time I choose. That’s what makes this assignment enjoyable.
Writing is something that has filled a void. It’s one of those things that I’m afraid if I didn’t make an effort to do on a daily basis, then it would just be another hobby tossed aside. That is why it’s important to me to keep writing. I want it to become a habit, an addiction and a ritual in my daily schedule.
Even though my son doesn’t have an interest in my writings at this time, my hope is that as he matures he might like to dig a little deeper into the person that I really am. I want my writings to tell him my story in bits and pieces. I want the stories to chip away the walls and reveal the inner core. I want to answer the questions he may never think to ask. I hope to expose some new chapters in my life that he never knew existed.
Today I am thankful for being able to tell a story.