Writers World...

I've been a bit of a writer for years. I've dabbled into various mediums trying to figure which I like best, but mostly I'm a free verse writer. Not really social commentary, but self realization I suppose. I think the best moments when I'm writing are when I'm thinking about music, though I woudln't call myself a music writer, a music critic, or (really) a music analyst. There's just something about listening to the right music when I'm writing, or I feel most inspired to write about, well, anything, once I've had that transcendent moment with music (see post: Have to Write...)

I'm getting back in the grove of writing on my blog and attempting to find more time to write here, and that's always a struggle. There are times I want to run from what I believe, run away from the thoughts that get bottled up in my head, and really, that's where this comes in for me. Writing is like therapy for me. It brings me clarity the same way running does.

I guess I should have known years ago that as much as I love music and as much as I can't live without it, I can't live without my writing more. All the way through my earlier years, I never left the house without a notebook and a pen. I haven't done this since I started college I suppose. Now, I always have my planner with me, almost always have a novel of some kind along in my purse. These things are important to me, but I have my planner to keep me on time and a book to take up time while I'm waiting. Essentially, my life now revolves around time instead of leisure. I made the sacrifices in some of the things I loved, to create new things I love. I value the education that I have and that I worked so hard for it. I began to write different things, but I still wrote. My music has come and gone through periods now and it is very painful to think of beginning again. I haven't played in so long, I'm sure I still could, and I'm sure I still want to, but the fear eats at me. What if it still physically hurts? and an even bigger fear...what if it doesn't?

I can continue to write all the way through my life, and I plan on doing just that. There are some major fears in my mind about it though. Will I be able to have the writers world that I want? Will I someday be able to have a room of my own for writing? Will I find solitude in writing and reading the way I naievely did years earlier? I certainly hope that those parts of me have not died as I've become more and more practical. I've always been emotional, affected by everything around me. It is hard for me to take my emotions out of my work. It is hard for me to not find the little tidbits in novels that show the most emotion, show heartache, or devastation. The parts that mostly affect mering deep inside of me, but for some time now have gotten lost in the everyday menial tasks of life. The everday seems more important and rates an "A" on my list of things to take care of. Writing, of course, is further down the list. Having time to reflect is certainly something I find meaningful and important for many reasons. Honestly, having the time to sift through it gives me a grip on reality, even if it is only the reality that I see.