I used to say that writing is like breathing. Without it, I would suffocate.
I started writing when I was in high school. Really writing. I took a role-playing game my bestie and I did and turned it into a novel. I'd always liked creative writing, but had no idea how much I would enjoy creating something as lengthy as a novel. I was hooked, and I kept writing. Every spare moment was spent writing stories by hand in my notebook, then typing them out on a computer at work during breaks.
I had several novels published. I dreamed of a writing career. Of being a famous author. Of snagging that elusive "big" publisher and making enough money to stay home and just sell books.
It didn't happen. Life happened instead. Money got tight. Time got tighter. My books took a backseat. My writing altogether began to slow to the point of hardly doing it anymore. But deep down, I had this terrible ache. It was enough that I didn't like to think about it, so I shoved it down deeper. Pretty soon... I was looking back on several years of emptiness. Novels that were only half finished. Plots that I still knew by heart, and characters I still loved... still sitting on the shelf.
This winter has been hard on me. The cold and darkness get to me more than I like to admit. I struggle with depression most during the winter months, and this year it has been even harder than usual. Work has been slow, and school has been stressful. My anxiety has risen, and so has my feeling of isolation. Sitting and considering all these things, I realized that what used to give me so much joy - my writing - was something that had been absent from my life. The gift God had given me... I was no longer using. That desire He planted in my heart... I had been denying. For too long.
I don't know what I'm going to do now, or how I'm going to pencil in (forgive the pun) more writing. But I want to. I need to. I'm a graphic designer, a student, an apartment cleaner, an interior painter... but I'm still a writer. It never became my career, let alone a bread-winning activity. But it's still a love. My first love.
I've already started trying to reintegrate myself into faithwriters.com, I want to move blogging up from the back burner to my regular schedule, and I want to visit my novels... eventually. I was reminded by a fellow writer to take small steps. Getting back into writing - although I love it - can be daunting. Not to mention, it's adding something into an already busy schedule. I don't have a burning motivation and determination. It's more like... a need. And I plan to fill it.