I feel new to writing, but, honestly, I'm not. Since that first poem in elementary school about the power of a smile I may have neglected this love from time to time but I never let it die. I won two poetry awards in high school and at the awards a kindly, or blind, old woman thought my Dad was my boyfriend. How many high school guys I have full beards? But I digress...
Until recently I dabbled with fiction but repeatedly wimped out. I once managed to complete a short story but the spot for that gleaming award on my imaginary mantle remains bare. I played with plot lines, but they remained unexplored ideas. A few dared to venture as far as a conceptual sentence or two but such impertinence was quickly handled by those vicious triplets - laziness, apathy, and procrastination. Lets give cousin self-doubt a little credit too.
I really don't know what changed but out of the sure knowledge that sometimes things are better left unknown and simply enjoyed I'll tamp down those questions in favor of more important ones:
-What do you mean there's not a funny fairy? I want some fairy dust on my work, dangit
-Can someone invent, or find, a brain implant to translate my tumbling thoughts and pictures straight into a heart stopping/warming/breaking (take your pick) page-turning literary masterpiece?
-How do I remain a loving & sweet wife when my dear husband interrupts me in the middle of the most brilliant sentence imaginable?
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