Write. Seriously, I want to try my hand at writing. I have all these stories running around in my head, and I want to try to get them down on paper. It’s one of the things that I was alluding to the other day, when I was talking about what I really want to do as part of my happiness project.
For awhile, I wouldn’t write because I wasn’t going to DO anything with my writing. I’m probably not going to send it anywhere, or try to be published. But then I realized, who cares? I want to write. I want to tell these stories… even if I only tell them to the computer I’m typing on. Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been trying to write. I’ve been trying to write my story, I’ve been trying to write other stories, and I’ve been frustrated because the stories just won’t come. There’s a voice in my head that tells me that the stories aren’t good enough, that it’s a waste of my time to write them. I’ve been fighting that voice, because really, if it brings me joy just to tell these stories, then it doesn’t matter if anybody ever reads them.
I was reading this morning when I was struck by a moment of inspiration and I realized that I had a story to tell. It was a “small moments” story, inspired by the writing assignment I gave my kids a couple of months ago. I was going to put it off, save it for another day, but I realized that another day would very likely never come. I had a story to tell, and I needed to write it NOW. And so I did. I put down my book, picked up my laptop, and spent some time writing. What came out wasn’t perfect, but it was a start that I could be proud of, and I hit save, and tucked it away in a corner of my hard-drive. Perhaps I’ll take it out again someday, revise it, do something with it, but for now, I’m just glad that I wrote it.