When they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. My response was a teacher. I always saw teachers writing. And that is what I loved to do. Writing is a craft. It is a gift. Writing is my blessing.
I still love to journal. But I find that when I sit at the laptop. My fingers begin to move instantly. Without knowing what keys my fingers will touch. When I am done, the screen displays a story. I always admired pianists when they are playing the piano. They make playing the piano look effortlessly. The sound of my fingers stroking the keyboard is music to my ears.
It is the safest place for me to share my emotions, thoughts, my fears and my victories. I feel free when I write. There are no rules, and no directions. Just the truth, which can be difficult to read on the screen.
Yesterday, I used a typewriter to write a thank you letter. I had a flashback of Bishop Foley in typing class. But after feeling traumatized. I kept typing. The sound of the keys hitting the strokes were louder. I was in my own rhythm. And the louder the noise, the faster I typed.
Spring 2018 is “my” deadline for my book. The problem is that I started a second book before finishing the first one. Now I am torn between which book to finish first. Over the next few days I will do some soul-searching. I trust God to guide me in the right direction. He hasn’t failed me yet.
I am finding that there isn’t a right way to complete my projects. This is nothing that I want to rush and publish. It has to feel right to me. It has to move my soul.
My blog, and my book will be the legacy that I leave for Harrison and Sydney. My writing is proof that you are never too old to do what you love. Fall in love with your passion. It is an amazing feeling.
