You Are Here - Part II

 In the beginning, I was quiet about writing. I didn't vocalize my intentions, really I didn't know what they were. Still, keeping to myself left me with another sort of map, a treasure map that only I looked at from time to time and then stowed away.

Five years later (two attempts at a novel and one completed first draft) and I am still writing. The only difference is that now I am saying so and loud enough for the world outside my door to hear. I know there will be questions; I still have questions of my own and this is where I have been, stuck.

So, what are my plans? Honestly, I don't know. At one time this would have been unnerving to admit. People don't garner any favor for uncertainty. Such a response is not congratulated but deemed at times as naive, daft or just simply ignorant. It incurs distressed looks, sudden coughing fits and awkward moments of silence. So why do I still persist? 

I was searching for the right answer, one that was good enough to satisfy and still give me that feeling of breathing room. Truthfully, few rose to the challenge and just when I thought none were to be found, I came to realize that maybe it wasn't my answer but the question that was all wrong.

Photo Credit: Geekgirly

What I mean to say is that I don't believe the future is what writing or any artistic endeavor can give.

Something changed in my life when I started writing. I may have begun writing to figure out my life but instead of revealing a future, writing turned my interest towards something closer at hand...here. 

Writing doesn't thrust me forward, instead, it puts me squarely in the present. It connects me to a moment and in that space my appreciation for it widens and grows. Even on the worst of writing days, at the very least, I feel honest for my efforts. I can recognize the face in the mirror - I am a writer writing. But on the best of writing days I feel something more. It's a feeling that spills into every other aspect of my day and it makes me a better person to everyone I come in contact with, even a better stranger that you meet on the street, all because of writing.

And regrets? I have yet to find any. There is nothing worth regretting when you find yourself interested in the world each and every day. It just makes you want to say, hey, give me some more!

Writing for me is about stringing enough todays together and leaving my need for maps behind.

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