Friday, May 12, 2017

Writing, glorious writing

I love writing.

I am really such a nerd when it comes to that. I love to sit and type and describe. Well, duh, it's obvious because I have a blog. I mean, who else CHOOSES to write but those of us who love to?

I was the type of child who actually used to LOOK FORWARD to school projects that involved a lot of writing. Because I just wanted to sit and write so much. I relished essays. I relished any sort of book project. I even enjoyed debating and orals for the writing part - the fact that I had to write out the oral excited me no end.

I am a dreamer, a bit of a "head in the clouds" type of person. I am not very practical at all. I can't fix anything that's broken. I can't take a machine apart and then put it back together again. No, not my talent, that.

But ideas. Concepts. Words. Now THOSE are my playground. Even images. Which is why I am an artist too. I can do stuff IN MY HEAD. I am good at formulating ideas. Communicating my ideas.

As a child, I created book after book. Character after character. My first story book, I wrote and illustrated at the age of seven, and it was called "Murtle the Turtle".

My son is interested in robots and robotics at this same age.

So, it's clear to me that I MUST follow this path, and write the book. It's about damn time. Soon I will be old and then dead, and my book will die within me.

I have always put too much pressure on writing. On my writing. I get such pleasure from doing it, that I haven't wanted to spoil that by making my writing my source of income. Perhaps that was right of me, I don't know. I could have possibly made money from writing by now. But in a way, I am glad I have kept my writing as a hobby. Something I do for fun and for me.

My art has made me money and it's causing me to hate my art. Sad but true. I hate that I have to paint what I am told to paint, instead of what I WANT to paint. Because, if I were free to paint anything, I'd love to paint bright stuff. Bold and bright. But anyhow.

So the whole point of this blog post is this: I love writing. I am nearly 39 and I believe that I am probably now old enough to have something of value to say. And it's probably time now that I put something on paper and say it.

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