For as long as I can remember, I've been a writer. As a little girl, I would craft poems about my favorite place in the world: Cape May, NJ. In middle school, I can distinctly remember carrying around a red marble notebook. I stayed after school every single day to spend an hour writing a story about a group of teenagers who stumble upon a distant land filled with mermaids and bad guys...that's all I can remember about it. I was in sixth grade and the story was terrible. But I was committed to writing it.
This blog does a pretty good job of satisfying my inherent need to write. But not all of it. I want to write, really write. One day I would love to be a published author. There's only one problem: I have no idea what I want to write about.
I decided this year I was going to bite the bullet and participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I don't have an outline. I have no ideas. I don't even know that I can write fiction. But I'm going to write. And if nothing miraculously comes to me I'll write what I know. I'll write about overcoming the "loss" of a parent, I'll write about surviving abuse, I'll write about being saved by Jesus, I'll write about throwing away my trust issues and falling deeply in love.
Somewhere untapped, there lies a story in that. And damnit, I'm going to find it. Wish me luck!