Every time I finish a good book (or even a mediocre one, really), I want write something great.
Every time I read a blog post from someone that strikes a chord with me and makes me smile, I want to write a post that will do the same for someone else.
Every time I write something great (which, I don’t feel like this is), I smile and feel such pride and accomplishment in what I have done.
I love to write. It offers me a clarity that I sometimes can’t find elsewhere. It gives me a place to let off steam and emotion that I don’t otherwise know what to do with. It gives me the chance to try to sift through the world and figure out the truth that I need to know. The truth that I need to pass on to others.
And I think that one of the reasons I love writing so much is because I love reading so much. The creative arts that involve reading and writing mean the world to me. And listening too. And watching.
I love reading books. I’ve even enjoyed listening to the occasional book. And I’ve definitely enjoyed writing parts of what could become books.
I love listening to music. Figuring out the lyrics and making them fit for me. And listening to the stories behind the songs. The music part has never been the easiest for me – I don’t understand the technical parts of it. But I’ve written poetry before. I’ve even attempted part of a song before. But not musically, just lyrically. It could be something fun to explore.
I love to watch movies. To see the ideas that people come up with and explore. To see what parts actors and actresses choose to take on when they have choices. To see what choices casting directors have made for people. I find it exhilarating. I’ve written a play (sort of) while in high school. A scene really that mimicked the scene of a play we were reading in class. It was great. I really enjoyed doing it.
It’s clear to me that I can be very creative and I enjoy being creative.
The question is whether it is my destiny to do something with it or whether it will just be a hobby. And I’m not sure how to find out.