“Who I am”-
That is a question I am constantly trying to answer. I’m a writer. It’s a simple statement. I am a writer. What does that mean? Does it mean I’m published? Does it mean the world knows my name? No and no…. It does mean that I’m a bit odd, that I had a traumatic, somewhat chaotic childhood and that ideas, characters, poetry run through my head at a constant speed. I think I’ve been struggling with the writer inside me all my life.
As a child I didn’t think too much of it. It just came naturally. I had a journal and I wrote in it daily. Poetry would come more easily to me and at a young age. I didn’t define it, I didn’t analyze it. As I grew older things changed. I would write when my kids were sleeping. I would steel away moments to develop my characters or story I was taken to another world in my writing. Then life became more chaotic, teenagers in the house! My writing took a backseat. And now that my oldest is 20 and my second 18 and my baby is 10. I have to stoop making excuses and be who I am. A writer. I need help with punctuation, sentence structure and I need to push myself past my limits. “Why am I here?” I’m here to push myself to write every day. I’m here to get to know other writers and to learn how to be better. I’m here to create.