On the bucket list: Become a writer

During the early years of my life reading was the only way for me to run away. When I needed to disappear, I would find a book. Reading for me was so magical. I could spend an afternoon on another planet, in another state, in worlds full of magic. I have always loved stories.

I only remember one year of my life that I couldn’t not read. I could read and write my name in cursive at the age of four. I wasn’t usually without a book.

I eventually wondered if I could write my own stories. Would anyone read them? As I got older I convinced myself that I wasn’t good enough to write my own stories. So whenever I would try my mind would go blank. What could I possibly write about that hasn’t been done before, or worse better. I avoided failing so much that I NEVER tried. When I smelled rejection I would turn the other way.

I got a little taste writing for the school news paper and yearbook in junior high. When I got to high school the editor, a senior told me not to bother applying. So, I didn’t. That was it. I wrote long diatribes about myself and the world in my journals but never more than that. I still have them, very few people have seen them. These teenage angst journal are in my attic. My dreams of being published went out the window.

I applied to college. I decided not to major in writing. I have a BS in Psychology. I don’t regret it. I loved every minute of that program and the people I met. I attempted a minor in writing instead. When I was given the assignment to write a page long poem that I would have to read to the class, I dropped the class. Did I mention that I blogged all the way through school? I am sure that I lost most of it when my computer crashed three years ago. I have been half ass blogging since 2005.

Because no one ever saw anything I wrote, I didn’t get any feedback, and I wasn’t able to progress enough to gain any confidence.

One of my dreams was to be a writer. That is why I am struggling through this process of blogging. I figured it was the only way I could make writing a part of my life. Also making thumbnails is a pain in the neck. Who has time for that.