For the Love of God, Take the First Step.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Hemingway said this, and he wasn’t wrong, the hard part is choosing which vein to bleed from...

For instance, if you were a little girl in the 90’s like I was you probably saw the movie Matilda. If you are unfamiliar it is about a little girl who is smarter than her cold parents from birth with life lessons, books, magic powers, overcoming adversity and A NEWT thrown into the mix. Watching Matilda was the first time I felt truly seen and it ignited a joy I only seemed to experience when I saw the library the Beast gifted Belle in Beauty and The Beast. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the really cool magic powers that came along with it but I did often feel like Matilda especially when books were my only solace.

As early as these moments, these silly little - barely remembered moments I’ve been creating a library in my head filled with favorite books, anecdotes and endless fantasies about the different ways reading and writing would become my life.

Writing, as a passion, is a flame that never dies. It is not some passing fancy or phase. It a nagging thirst that needs to be met for your entire life. Writing can help to cope, mourn, exhault, reason with, believe, change everything. Reading can silence the noise, transport you to new worlds, take you back in time and live in your head rent free for as long as you live.

This is free therapy.

So I fell into a deep passionate love with words and what I could do with them. I was going to be a writer.

Years passed, by time I was a teen I had written short stories galore along with my first novel, it was my personal masterpiece.

Which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t that masterful...or grammatically acceptable...

Poetry became big around that time as well so I dabbled but it didn’t give me the same satisfaction of transporting my readers through the twists and turns of my characters I always spent weeks carefully constructing in my mind. I began to think about what I could also offer the world as a non fiction writer. I wrote about myself, my life, experiences I had never told anyone about. That time really was me reaching level of vulnerability there that I haven’t achieved at any other time in life. The point being, things were happening, the wheels were turning, my dream was attainable. I was so sure and SO excited.

However, as the responsibilities mounted in my adult life my passion took a backseat. I still enjoyed devouring every book that crossed my path, always taking time to smell the pages.

...if you know you know...

I didn’t think I could do it anymore. There was just so much that needed to be done first; kids, work, home, husband. I gave up on the one thing that was only mine. A piece of my heart that was the most me shattered into a million pieces.

So here we are.

I was 19 when I had my first child. Married at 20. Second child at 22. Divorced at 25. Third child at 26. Found the love of my life and here I am, 30 and married again. Happily this time around.

Life is calming down and that flame I spoke of for writing? It burns stronger than ever. I’ve been making writing a priority again. A dam has been broken, the words are flowing. I’m ready to become who I’m supposed to be. I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know where to start..

What I do know is that it is NOT too late

It never is.

I just need to take that first damn step.

Sit down to a typewriter..

Choose a vein..

And bleed.

Won’t you walk with me?