be a writer

When I was a child I wrote so many things! But when I became older, it just kinda slipped away, which makes me sad, because I remember that when I was a child, writing was the only thing that made me happy.
So I decided to stop thinking about it all the time, and start doing it! I hope it will make me just as happy as it did when I was a little kid…

I really want to stop wanting, and start doing. Isn’t that the best advice…....to just keep writing every day.

I want to be a children’s book author. I already have written my first book. I just want to keep it up. To use my time for something more creative then just playing games on the computer.

It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do, and I write a lot of stuff, I guess I just have to be brave enough to let other people read it!

i want to become a writer so thru my writning i coiuld teach people about life

Holy COW! I let my husband read some of my writing.. Also let my sister. It’s a step forward. :)

i need to right in my notebook!

. . I’ve started making sure that i write something every day even if its not much, and a story is already beginning to come together – think all that’s needed is that initial persistance to get you going and then everything starts to come together :)

I’d love a job that involves some kind of writing, something that i really enjoy and doesn’t seem to be work . . . but even if career wise this never works out i really want to write novel that I’m really pleased with, even if it never gets published, just something that has a beginning, middle and end and that I’m proud of :)

The corner seems to be the darkest part of the room.
My back leans against the glacial wall, frozen in time.
My feet stay planted parallel and similar from each other.
I sit disturbingly peaceful, curled up in my own depression.

I can feel the room closing in, closer and closer to me.
My eyes will stay closed, to save my soul.
My heart races, pounding hard against my chest.
The fire is taking over me, I it wills within my body.

Turning my blood brown as it boils my veins.
My flesh starts to sear from the core of my skin.
My hands shake uncontrollably, pulsating from inside.
It’s taking over me and it won’t stop.

The fire pours out my eyes, coating my frame.
Up my scalp, down my body, through every fingertip.
The room is no more, its has parished in the inferno.
The flames will forever lay within my eyes.