Monday, 11 July 2011

my view

Hay there everyone, how’s life been treating you all?
  Me? Great in a way that the sun is shining and a thought is placed in my mind in a bang that wants nothing more than to come out and spread its love to you'll.
  Something got me thinking about how I feel about writing, what I do to be able to write, and how I find it. Like is it hard for me to come up with a book? no, I'm one of the few people in this world that can sit in front of a computer with nothing in my head and still write a story. Yeah its better when I have a general idea what I want it to be about, but I don't need it. It’s even more helpful if I have some character idea - again not something that I really need. I can just write. 
   if I'm honest with myself (which isn't my strongest point) I find it a little unmoving that I'm able to do what I can do. It’s like looking at the world in letters and sentences. Watching how people tilt there head, the curve of their body, so that I can write it, transfer it all into a book. Have characters that are bits and pieces of people off the street. And yet I can do that. Hell I started writing what... four years ago and the way things are going I have written one book a year, if I keep, just that idea up... I could end up with a lot, and that's before you put in the fact that I want to write like four a year. 
  But I see the world - or at least the people in it - I believe that everyone has a story in them. It’s there life story and people just choose to tell there's a little differently than others. Some tell loved ones, children, grandchildren. some write songs, poems, musicals. Hell some just bottle it all up until they find themselves dead by whatever mean they fell the need to end their life with. 
  I write, I've always written, it's one of the reason that I didn't have to tell anyone about the compete inner working of my mind, I already had someone for that, even if that someone never actually new it. But mostly as I see it, my stories are a little bit out of my life, a story to tell you all, about me, about others that I know. And even if no one can tell that I'm doing it, there. How I feel about those around me, how I see them. there life in my eyes, their personalities, and yeah bad stuff happens to all at my fingertips, though I'm trying real hard for that not to be true, I still put in just a little of my life into each book, I don't think I could stop myself even if I tried.
  but really this is about all those questions that will probably never be asked of me, 'cause let’s face it, being an author isn't something that happens to just anyone, and I haven't got a mind that can make me hope I'll become one in a blink of an eye, if ever. But I find writing easy, it sooths something in my when I don't even know it needs soothed. It makes me happy even when I'm sad. it's.... the one thing in the world I can see myself doing for the rest of my life, even if it takes me nowhere, even if it ends up being for nothing than to relax me when I'm stressed. but who know, maybe I'll actually be good at it. Seems there has to be something, right.
  anywho, temp outside is 3˚C, its cold but at least the wind has stopped, that's kinda a bonus. The kids are on holidays for the week, it's only been half a day and already wish they were going to their respected school tomorrow, but know, I have a week of them at home. I'm about to go out, by some snacks, rent a movie and hope to hell that gives me an hour or so of no annoying kids, only time will tell. 
  The rest of you enjoy your time, till next we meet. *smile* I'll be writing while your all living.

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