Homecoming

I lose track of dates and times when it comes to things I’ve written. Recently I made myself aware that something I thought I had written only a few years ago was actually written when I was a kid. This is due in part to my mother saving nearly every single notebook or paper that I ever put pen to.

When I was a kid I wanted to be a teacher. But I found creative expression through writing poetry and short stories.

When I was an adult I went to college, worked in high-tech and broadcast media and marketing and business development and project management and the list goes on and on. But I found creative expression through writing short stories and novels and blogs.

Still as an adult who has recently experienced a homecoming (moving back to where I’m from after being away for 25 years), I am finding that writing continues to call to me even though it has been a while since I’ve put pen to paper in any form other than marketing copy for clients.

Over the past year or so there has been a nagging in me to finish the endless list of works-in-progress, or to make an attempt at starting the stories that have been outlined…or even stories that just have a title and a potential character name and nothing more.

But I’ve felt held back. I don’t know if it was the stress of moving across the country (again) or whether it has been a bit of imposter syndrome weighing me down. I want to fix that.

I’m working myself up emotionally to get back to it. To pick up the forgotten story and see what’s been happening to it while I was away. The answer to that is of course NOTHING. A story doesn’t write itself, it just sits there unfinished and waiting for someone to care about it again.

And so I’m prepping a little area of the sunporch to be a new space to care. A creative area where the cats can snooze or stare at me while I’m clicking away on the keyboard. It’s time to get back to it and start churning out these things that I can’t get out of my head.

I welcome you along the journey. There will be some archives that we pour through on here – some of the things I wrote when I was a kid deserve to be shared and laughed at. Plus it’s a great way for me to go through all these boxes that no longer clutter my parents’ attic but now clutter my own.

I set no expectations…you get what you get. Maybe you’ll enjoy it. Want to find out?