Earlier this year I began taking an on-line creative writing class. I wanted something productive to do with my extra time. I thought it would give me a creative outlet and a chance for self-expression that I just don't get in my normal day-to-day life. I hoped to complete the class by now, but life has a way of taking the best laid plans and screwing them up.
I've started several novels. I've written essays and short stories. I also started this blog. My highschool english teacher would be so proud of me. Now if I could just finish what I started. So in light of my recent procrastination, here I am at my keyboard typing this out. It is in defiance of the time restraints my life imposes. I want to write. I love to write. But my time seems to slip away and is gobbled up by other obligations.
By writing I've learned so much about myself, good and bad. I've made some new friends and lost a few old ones along the way. Not everyone understands my art, the drive to put the words on paper, the little piece of myself inserted into each letter typed. Some easily discredit the effort it takes, are unsupportive or basically uninterested in my hobby. I mean each of us are truly selfish creatures and really want it to be all about us. It's not enough to rejoice in another's success. In the words of the great poet, Alain Whyte, "We hate it when our friends become successful." That's another thing I learned by writing. I've learned the depths of love and forgiveness, the true ties that bind us to one another, the joy of laughter and the pain of loss. Writing has opened up new doorways and new vistas. My future doesn't seem so pre-determined now. Writing has given me a new outlook on the future.
So as next year approaches and another year slips away. I guess my goals, my resolutions for next year are simple: write, write, write.
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