Unmotivated

So here's the thing--I am ready for something new.

I'm the kind of person who needs change every few years. The change I'm speaking of is centered around my "occupation." My degree was in public relations ... because I couldn't think of anything else to declare.

Now that I've put a few more years on me, I wish more than ever that I would have majored in English/Creative Writing. It kind of sucks that, at this point, I'm just now realizing this.

I have not typed up a blog in almost three months. Why the long gap, you ask? Or maybe you don't care. Part of the disconnection between fingertips and keyboard was that I had convinced myself that I was wasting time, that it was stupid to write something on a page that no body ever reads. A part of me still feels this way.

There was a strong pull today, as if a hidden magnet inside my laptop were pulling me back to my blog to get out some ideas.

I want to be a novelist. The writer within me has nearly ripped out of my skin, looking me face-to-face and slapping my cheeks repeatedly with open palms. "Keep the dream alive," my writer-side says. "Keep the dream alive..."

If my mother-in-law would ever finish editing my first novel ... There I go complaining again. She's a busy woman. Far busier than I am. I have no right to rush her along. Shame on me for complaining about anything: My life is so good compared to the multitudes of people every day who don't have shelter, don't have food, don't have the luxury of reading books in their own language...

I have the gifts that God gave me. I feel like he's honestly leading me down the writing path...

Maybe not. Who knows. But that's what I feel.