As a young girl, I kept a diary with Cabbage Patch Kids on the cover. After a certain sibling found it, I moved to a pink, locked journal. To this day, I’m still not sure what happened to them and why I quit writing in them.
I’ve tried, many times, to start writing again. I’ve doodled in a Daily Devotional, remarking on the deep religious thoughts of scripture. After several months, I put it in a drawer and never went back. I have three different journals sitting on my desk – one for dreams that never make it there after waking, one for thoughts on the go (they never go-go to the pages though-though), and one I picked up because I like the cover art, but I’ve never written in it.
How blasphemous, if you ask me.
What kind of a writer am I if I don’t event take the…
View original post 95 more words