I am sitting at my desk staring at the blank computer screen wondering what to write about. Perhaps it's because I have been diligently working on several projects for submission, or maybe it's because Andrew has been sick with bronchitis this past week (he finally went back to school today). Who knows the real reason? What I do know is that if I just start typing, the words will flow. This is the miraculous process of writing, and why it is deemed so therapeutic.
Sometimes I wonder where my words come from; they surely can't be mine. I'm too quiet and serious. But it's amazing how free I feel when I am able to express myself. Writing just happens to be my thing. Some people draw, play the piano, crochet, or whatever, to relieve their stress. I write. And when I write, I am happy.
I truly believe that God is my inspiration to write. At last I know what my gift is in life. I should have known it all along. The signs were visible as I was growing up; I spent hours writing, poeming and journaling. I guess sometimes things are just too obvious, and we can't see the truth...or don't want to. So if my work is rejected, I will know that there is somewhere else it needs to be. But, I will never give up...I'll keep you posted, too.