Write

Over at my friend Justina's she blogs about finding her voice through writing.  She mentions that her writing could be better then lists several lovely writers that she looks up to.  I like Justina's writing.  I understand where she is coming from.  Writing seems easy.  And it is.  See?  I'm writing right now.  Words and more words.  Words here, there, and don't forget the words I'm typing at this very moment.  But good writing, quality writing is a bit more rare.

I've been writing my whole life but only until the last couple of years have I realised that I'm just writing words.  I'm not putting the effort or quality into my words that makes whatever it is I'm working on worth reading.  I've made a few fledgling attempts.  Some short stories were written and then discarded.  Because they weren't right.  Writing is hard, dammit.  It's beautiful and moving when you get it right, usually I realise this when I'm reading someone else's stuff.

I'm not giving up, though.  Because how weak is that?  I enjoy writing, it's fantastic.  Almost like therapy in a way.  You can release everything that is bothering or uplifting you onto a page and then put it out into the world at the press of a button.  After that you wait to see if people think it is total crap or relatively neatish.  I don't think a novel is in the future for me because I can't even get a short story down.  I'll probably be stuck in the blog-world for eons.  Get used to me here, people.  I don't think I'm going somewhere else anytime soon.  And if I do it better be in a big, fat book.