Monday, June 4, 2012

I've got some nerve

For years, I wanted to be a writer. I would sit down with my notebook, jotting down my thoughts, creating character profiles, coming up with plots, and yet all the while my inner dialogue would be second guessing me; telling me that I'm no good at it and never would be; telling me to go do the dishes rather than continue writing. So, rather than actually writing and improving, I did things around this dream. A degree in English earned me a hell of a job as, you guessed it, a writer, but not really the writer I wanted to be. That was ten years ago. In those ten years, I have become a hell of a writer, a corporate writer, but a writer nonetheless. However, the other writer has been sorely neglected, jammed among the debris of long forgotten dreams and goals and desires. Occasionally, though, it pokes its uncertain head out of the darkness as a reminder that there is a writer, a real writer that needs some attention. And that time is upon us!

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