Tales from the Inkwell: Tale 1

Salutations! Bienvenidos everyone. 

Thanks for joining me on this creative endeavor, wherein I pick up where I left off about 12 years ago. You see, 12 years ago, I ended the run of what I had thought was a pretty successful blog. I had a grand readership of 23 people, some of whom were in Europe according to Blogpost data (my family is large and based in the US). That was a pretty exciting run for me and yet I stopped because I became convinced my life was boring. That and I started working part time at my local used bookstore (highly recommend working at a bookstore at some point in your life, you meet the best people - and by best people I mean fellow readers) and stopped having time to write. In fact, I pretty much stopped writing altogether 12 years ago, despite an aching need to write.

I have written in journals since I was four years old - and journals helped me get through my adolescence (something I didn’t realize until I was an adult). I started my fantasy book at age 15 and didn’t stop writing until 6 years later. That book is still not done, but I have the whole story arc complete, I even have half of the prequel written. The issue is, along the way I lost my confidence. Has that happened to you? Maybe you never had someone help you - tell you that you can, in fact, write. Maybe no one has told you that in order to live and be happy - rather than merely live and exist - you have to nourish yourself, and that can look like a lot of things. 

For me, it happens to be writing. 

The feel of pen on paper. 
The feel of the computer keys under my fingers. 
The sensory pleasure as I press keys on a typewriter.


What’s your happy? 


It’s taken me a long time to figure out that the piece of “me” that I missed the most once I “achieved” what I thought I was supposed to - was writing. The God-given gift of being able to articulate thoughts on paper. That spark and happiness I get when I see words - they don’t have to be well-written (and often they are nothing more than sentences like “I am testing this ink color - this is a great ink color” in different colors on my favorite notebook) - on paper reminds me that whole worlds can be built with the combination of an imagination and a will to sit down (stand up, lay down, etc.) and take time to put pen to paper. My confidence is not back, not exactly. I’m still not entirely convinced this is a good idea, but I do need to write. And I find that the accountability of writing, publishing a post and focusing on getting at least some writing done in this manner is one of the best ways for me to write. I feel like I’m in a class again, and oh how I wish I could go back to school and just write creatively again - my screenwriting class especially! 

I cannot tell you the number of times I have started whole story lines in my head about people, places, things, and... that’s where they’ve stayed. My head feels crowded after years of not bothering to take down anything more than my anger and frustration about life out on paper. I sporadically write in various journals - an emergency release valve to a much bigger issue I’ve been too scared to face. I feel creatively clogged, if you will, and this blog is me rolling up my sleeves, putting on my safety googles, gloves, and overalls, and doing the work of clearing out my creative pipes. It won’t always be pretty. It will be honest, and it is based on my life and my imaginings. You can expect I’ll be writing long - and short - stories. I’ll weave in my faith, my loves, my likes, my hardships. I’m not writing for you though, and I hope you understand. I’m writing because I need to feel like myself. I need to rediscover the contours of what makes me happy; to feel like me again & I am going back to basics. I hope you’ll join me. I do feel like I’m speaking to an old friend and my wish is that you’ll extend me some grace as I write. You are welcome any time to join me at the inkwell.



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