I spent a good portion of my youth writing drippy sappy love poetry.
Because I felt it came from the depths of my soul, I figured it had to be good.
Now I figure not so much.
I have always loved to write. I started writing stories when I was was 5 and discovered my moms old typewriter.
I thought it was possibly the best invention I had ever seen.
No pencils, no pens, just press some keys and VOILA! my stories appeared. (I hadn't figured out yet that when you made a mistake you had to start the page all over again)
The first thing I wrote about was my cat, Princess. My mother had me convinced she was a purebred Persian and therefore one of the royals of the cat world. As a kid I didn't notice that she was missing the whole "oops my face rear ended a truck" look. In reality she was just a pretty white cat and it took me until my adulthood to come to terms with that.
But I digress....
In my story she became a white tiger who was very clumsy and her sister decided that she should be made queen to make her feel better about herself. Of course none of the other tigers thought it was good idea but they did it anyway and it all ended happy.
The down trodden triumphs!
I of course thought I was the first person to ever invent such a deep and complicated plot. But to put my maturity in context, I had to ask my mother how to spell "but" (not the kind you sit on I told her) so that should explain it.
I wrote and wrote and wrote my way throughout elementary school. More stories unfinished than not. I still have a rather large wicker basket in my closet full of all the hand written pages from that era.
I turned to poetry in my angst ridden youth. Cranking out page after page of heart felt love gibberish. Pouring out of my soul onto paper. Not all was bad but there were some that I cringe at when I gather the courage to reread the stuff.
Eventually I got married and had children (or the children had me, its a blurry line) and I stopped writing for the better part of 12 years.
One much needed divorce and the angst ridden love-sap poetry resurfaced. I do believe I outdid myself this time around.
Once again I got married and I no longer had time to see how many times I could use the words soul, passion and heaven together on the same piece of paper.
I finally came to realize that I really did miss writing but maybe should concentrate on real stories that go somewhere and have plots. I have heard some of the better works of fiction have these.
I am hoping one day to complete a sci-fi adventure thriller peppered with some hot steamy sex scenes. (OK maybe the correct way to put it would be one day I hope to START etc etc).
But just writing bits and pieces for this blog has gotten me started on creating things that don't require the enter key every 3 or 4 words. I am enjoying myself and I guess that is the whole point.
Since I don't like to make a post without a picture or two, I figured I would subject all you to one of my poems... try to be kind.
DANG... is it too hard to read?? There is nothing I hate more than when people write stuff and then stick it onto a wild background, rendering the text unreadable.
I was trying to be fancy and I think I only succeeded in making a mess.