I was recently made aware of a growing passion of mine. You’ve heard me go on and on about my love of music and playing the piano. You’ve heard me declare my love (and sometimes my frustration) of God. You’ve heard me mention my love for B and The Kid.
And (maybe) I’ve mentioned in passing my love of writing.
I was talking to B over the weekend over a story I finished titled Emma. It’s currently being critiqued by a wonderful group I found online and once it’s polished and tightened I hope to submit it for publishing. While I was telling him about my crit group, I could see his smile growing bigger and bigger. I finally asked, “What?” to which he said, “You’re really excited about writing and I’m happy for you.”
Writing was never a first love for me. When I was a kid, I did it to mimic my older sister but I hated everything I wrote and couldn’t stand reading any of it. I didn’t think I’d ever take it up again but I did and here I am.
The “maybe” of writing a book is no longer an issue, and the “maybe” of publishing my writing is slowly turning into a yes. I don’t know if I’ll write full-time in the future but what I do know is I no longer think “maybe” when I type out a story. I think “yes.”